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Christ  in  Song. 

HYMNS  OF  IMMANUEL: 

SELECTED    FROM    ALL    AGES,   WITH    NOTES, 
BY 

PHILIP  SCHAFF,  D.D. 

NEW    YORK: 

ANSON  D.  F.  RANDOLPH   &   COMPANY, 

No.  770,  Broadway. 

1870. 

3 

c 

p 

r 

- 

lb. 

— 3 

& 

w 

Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 

Ansom  D.  F.  Randolph  &  Co., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United   States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


CAMBRIDGE  : 

PRESS   OF  JOHN  WILSON   AND   SON. 


D 


CHRISTO    SACRUM, 


Xgiojog  ra  Ttdvta  tv  jtaaiv. 


Thro'  life  and  death,  thro'  sorrow  and  thro'  sinning 
Christ  shall  suffice  me,  for  He  hath  sufficed; 

Christ  is  the  end,  for  Christ  is  the  beginning, 
Christ  the  beginning,  for  the  end  is  Christ. 


Unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our 
SINS  IN  His  own  Blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings  and 
PRIESTS   UNTO   God   and   His   Father  :   to   Him  be   glory 

and   DOMINION   FOR   EVER   AND  EVER  I       AmEN. 


ft 


PREFACE. 


/'"^HRIST  is  the  centre  of  sacred  art  as  well  as  of  the- 
^^  ology  and  religion.  The  noblest  works  of  the 
master-painters  ai^e  attempts  to  portray  His  "  human  face 
divine,"  now  in  the  charm  of  childhood,  now  in  the 
agony  of  the  cross,  now  in  the  glory  of  the  resuri'ection, 
now  in  His  majesty  as  the  judge  of  the  world.  From 
Him  music  has  drawn  its  highest  inspiration,  and  Handel 
transcended  himself  when  he  made  "  Messiah "  his 
theme.  The  sweetest  lyrics  of  Zion  in  all  ages  celebrate 
the  events  of  His  life  and  the  boundless  wealth  of  mercy 
and  peace  that  is  treasured  up  in  His  person  and  work 
for  every  believer. 

The  hymns  of  Jesus  are  the  Holy  of  holies  in  the 
temple  of  sacred  poetry.  Fi-om  this  sanctuary  every 
doubt  is  banished ;  here  the  passions  of  sense,  pride,  and 


vi  PREFACE. 

unholy  ambition  give  way  to  the  tears  of  penitence,  the 
joys  of  faith,  the  emotions  of  love,  the  aspirations  of 
hope,  the  anticipations  of  heaven ;  here  the  dissensions 
of  rival  churches  and  theological  schools  are  hushed 
into  silence  ;  here  the  hymnists  of  ancient,  mediaeval,  and 
modern  times,  from  every  section  of  Christendom  —  pro- 
found divines,  stately  bishops,  humble  monks,  faithful 
pastors,  devout  laymen,  holy  women  —  unite  with  one 
voice  in  the  common  adoration  of  a  common  Saviour. 
He  is  the  theme  of  all  ages,  tongues,  and  creeds,  the 
divine  harmony  of  all  human  discords,  the  solution  of 
all  the  dark  problems  of  life. 

What  an  argument  this  for  the  great  mystery  of  "  God 
manifest  in  flesh,"  and  for  the  communion  of  saints! 
Where  is  the  human  being,  however  great  and  good, 
that  could  open  such  a  stream  of  grateful  song,  ever 
widening  and  deepening  from  generation  to  generation, 
in  every  land ! 

Blessed  Saviour!  Thou  indeed,  and  Thou  alone, 
with  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Ghost  ever  one  God,  art 
worthy  to  receive  blessing  and  glory,  praise  and  adora- 
tion from  the  innumerable  army  of  the  redeemed  in  the 
Church  militant  on  earth,  and  the  Church  triumphant  in 
heaven,  for  ever  and  for  ever ! 

A  complete  and  carefully  selected  Lyra  Christo- 
LOGiCA,  embracing  the  choicest  hymns  on  the  Person 
and  Work  of  our  Lord  from   all  ages,  denominations, 


PREFACE.  Vll 

and  tongues,  must  be  welcome  to  every  lover  of  sacred 
poetry. 

Such  a  work  is  here  attempted  from  the  best  hym- 
nological  sources.  A  large  proportion  of  the  poems  are 
translations  or  transfusions  from  the  Greek,  Latin,  and 
German ;  with  a  few  from  other  languages.  The  Eng- 
lish hymns  are  nearly  all  given,  as  they  came  from  the 
inspiration  of  the  poet,  without  omission  or  alteration. 
Any  other  course  would  be  contrary  to  good  taste,  and  a 
violation  of  the  sacredness  of  literary  property.  The 
Lyra  Sacra  of  America  is  well  represented.  Although 
only  about  thirty  years  old,  it  is  far  richer  than  our 
British  friends  are  aware  of. 

About  thirty  pieces  are  especially  prepared  for  this 
Collection,  and  will  attract  attention.  The  Editor  begs 
leave  here,  publicly,  to  express  his  cordial  thanks  to  his 
friends,  the  Rev.  Drs.  W.  A.  Muhlenberg,  Ray  Palmer,  E. 
A.  Washburn,  A.  R.  Thompson,  Prof.  Thomas  C.  Porter, 
the  Rev.  James  Inglis,  the  Hon.  E.  C.  Benedict,  Mr.  A. 
D.  F.  Randolph,  Mrs.  G.  W.  Hinsdale,  and  Mrs.  Dr. 
H.  B.  Smith,  for  valuable  contributions,  as  well  as  to 
those  authors  and  publishers  who  kindly  permitted  him 
to  use  poems  already  known. 

Under  each  section  the  pieces  are  mostly  arranged  in 
chronological  order,  to  enable  the  reader  to  trace  the 
history  of  Christian  life  in  song.  It  will  be  observed 
that   the    Church    before    the    Reformation,    celebrated 


:z) 


viii  PREFACE. 

mainly  the  great  objective  facts  in  Christ's  life  i^Christus 
pro  nobis)  ;  while  the  hymnists  after  the  Reformation, 
without  neglecting  the  festival  themes,  brought  out  more 
fully  the  subjective  application  of  Christ's  merits,  and 
our  relation  to  Him  (  Christus  in  nobis).  A  few  mediae- 
val singers,  especially  St.  Bernard  in  his  "Jesu  dulcis 
Memoria,"  have  anticipated  the  deep  fervor  of  that  true 
evangelical  piety,  which  consists  in  a  personal  apprehen- 
sion of  Christ  by  faith,  and  immediate  union  and  com- 
munion with  Him,  as  the  all-sufficient  Fountain  of  grace 
and  peace. 

I  need  hardly  add  that  the  Collection  is  intended 
for  private  devotion,  and  hence  includes  many  poems 
which  would  be  out  of  place  in  a  hymn-book  for  public 
worship. 

May  He,  whose  holy  name  shines  on  every  page,  own 
and  bless  this  labor  of  love  to  His  own  glory  and  praise, 
and  to  the  joy  and  comfort  of  His  people  ;  animating 
their  songs  in  the  house  of  their  pilgrimage,  until  they 
adore  Him  face  to  face  in  the  chorus  of  Redemption 
everlasting. 


5,  Bible  House, 
New  York,  Oct.  £,  1868. 


LIST   OF   THE   PRINCIPAL   SOURCES 

USED   AND    qyOTED   IN   THIS   COLLECTION. 


I.     For  Ancient  and  Mediceval  (^Greek  and  Latin)  Hymnology. 

H.  A.  Daniel  :    Thesaurus  Hyinnologicus.     Lipsiae,  1841-1S56.     5  vols.     Contains 

Latin,  Greek,  and  Syr!ac  Hymns. 
F.  J.  MoNE  :  Lateinische  Hyninen  des  Mittelalters.     Freiburg,  1853-1855.     3  vols. 
Philipp  Wackeknagel  :  Das  Deutscfie  Kirche7died  von  der  dltesten  Zeit  bis  zu 

Anfang  des  XVII.  Jahrh.     Leipzig,  1864-1865.     2  vols.     Part  of  Vol.   1.,  pp. 

9-362,  is  devoted  to  Latin  hymnology,  with  much  curious  literary  and  biblio- 
graphical information. 
Richard    Chenevix    Trench  :    Sacred  Latin  Poetry,  chiefly  Lyrical.     Second 

edition,  corrected  and  improved.     London  and  Cambridge,  1864. 
J.  Chandler  :   The  Hymns  of  tlie  Pritniiive  Church,  now  first  collected,  translated, 

and  arranged.     London,  1837. 
J.  M.  Neale  :  Hymns  of  the  Eastern  Church.     London,  1862,  third  edition,  1866. 
J.  M.  Neale:   Mediceval  Hytnns  and  Sequences.      London,   1851,  third   edition, 

enlarged,  1867. 
Lyra  Catholica,  by  Edward  Caswall.     London,  1849.     New  York,  1851  (with 

additions  from  Faber  and  others). 
Erastus  C.  Benedict  :    The  Hymn  of  HUdehert,  and  other  Mediceval  Hym7is, 

•with  Translations.     New  York,  1867. 
Abraham  Coles:   Latin  Hymns,  with  Original  Translations  {Dies  Irce ;  Stabat 

Mater,  both  dolorosa  and  speciosa  ;  Urbs  ccelestis  ;  &c. ).     New  York,  5th  ed. ,  1 868. 

II.     For  German  Hymnology. 
Ph.  Wackeknagel  :  Das  Deutsche  fCirchenlied,  &c.     1864-1863.    2  vols. 
Albert  Knapp:  Evangelischer  Liederschatz.    Stuttgart,  third  edition,  1865,  contains 

3130  hymns. 
Phil.  Schaff:  Deutsches  Gesangbuch.     Philadelphia,  first  published  1S59,  and  often 

since.     (Large  edition,  with  notes,  &c.) 
Frances   Elizabeth   Cox:   Sacred  Hyjnns  from  the  German.      London,    1841 ; 

new  edition,  1865. 
Lyra  Germanics,  by  Catherine  Winkworth.     First  Series,  London,  1855 ;  Sec- 
ond Series,  1858.     Sixth  edition,  1866.     Also  reprinted  in  New  York. 
Hor>e  GermaniCvE,  by  Henkv  Mills.     New  York  and  Auburn.    Second  ed.,  1856. 
Hymns  from  the  Land  of  Luther.      Translated  from  the  German  (by  Jane 

Eorthvvick,  published  first  in  four  Series,  Edin.  1853,  and  in  i  vol.  1S62 ;  also  in 

New  York). 
Lyra  Domestica  :  Christian  Songs  for  Domestic  Edification.     Translated  from 

Spitta  by  Richard  Massie.     London,  i860.     Second  Series,  1864. 

III.     For  English  Hymnology. 

Roundell  Palmer  :   The  Book  of  Praise.     London  and  Cambridge,  1865. 

Charles  Rogers  :  Lyra  Britannica.  A  Collection  of  British  Hymns  printed 
from  the  genuine  texts,  &c.     London,  1867. 

Good  editions  of  the  Poems  of  George  Herbert,  Watts,  Wesley,  Doddridge, 
ToPLADY,  CowpER,  Newton,  Heber,  Keble,  Monsell,  Faber,  Bonar, 
Muhlenberg,  Bethune,  J.  W.  Alexander,  R.  Palmer,  Mrs.  Stowe,  and 
other  hymn-writers,  and  a  number  of  hymnological  collections  by  various  authors. 


r 

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> 

TABLE    OF 

CONTENTS. 

[The  date  generally  indicates  the  time  of  composition ;  or,  where  this  could  not  be 

ascer- 

tained,  the  time  of  first  publication,  or  the  year  of  the  author's 

death.] 

Introductory. 

Time  of 

Author.                        composition. 

Page. 

Salvator  Mundi, 

Ray  Palmer. 

1868 

1-5 

Part  Jirst. 

CHRIST    FOR    us. 

The  Advent. 

O  Thou  Redeemer, 

Ambrose. 

397 

9 

Behold!   the  Bridegroom, 

From  the  Greek. 

II 

On  Jordan's  bank, 

From  the  Latin. 

12 

Draw  nigh,  draw  nigh, 

From  the  Latin. 

14 

Once  He  came  in  blessing, 

M.  Weiss. 

1531 

15 

Lift  up  jour  heads, 

G.  Weissel. 

1630 

17 

Let  the  earth  now  praise, 

H.  Held. 

1643 

18 

Lord,  how  shall  I  be  meeting, 

P.  Gerhardt. 

1653 

20 

Plunged  in  a  gulf, 

Is.  Watts. 

1709 

24 

Messiah,  atThj  glad  approach, 

Michael  Bruce. 

1767 

25 

Lo,  He  comes ! 

Th.  Kelly. 

1809 

27 

Watchman !   tell  us. 

Sir  John  Bowring. 

1825 

28 

When  Jesus  came  to  earth. 

Mrs.  C.  Y.  Alexander.   1850 

30 

Zion,  at  thy  shining  gates. 

B.  H.  Kennedy. 

31 

He  comes,  no  royal  vesture. 

F.   RiJCKERT. 

1824 

ZZ 

The  Church  has  waited  long, 

HoRATius  Bonar. 

1856 

35 

c 

p 

c: 

) 

'"  •> 

J 

M 

xu 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


A  great  and  mighty  wonder, 

From  where  the  rising  sun, 

Of  the  Father's  love  begotten. 

From  lands  that  see  the  sun, 

To-day  in  Bethlehem  hear  I, 

All  hail,  thou  night. 

Come  hither,  ye  faithful, 

A  child  is  born  in  Bethlehem, 

There  comes  a  galley  laden, 

All  praise  to  Thee, 

Good  news  from  heaven, 

We  sing  to  Thee,  Immanuel, 

All  my  heart  this  night  rejoices, 

While  to  Bethlehem, 

This  is  the  month. 

Thou  fairest  Child  Divine, 

Joy  to  the  world. 

Hark,  how  all  the  welkin  rings  ! 

Hark,  the  glad  sound ! 

Oh,  how  wondrous  is  the  story. 

When  Jordan  hushed  his  waters. 

Hark!    what  mean  those  holy, 


The  Incarnation. 

Author. 
Anatolius. 
Ambrose. 
Prudentius. 
CcELius  Sedulius. 
John  of  Damascus. 
From  the  Latin. 
From  the  Latin. 
From  the  Latin. 
John  Tauler. 
NoTKER  and  Luther 
Luther. 
P.  Gerhardt. 
P.  Gerhardt. 
Violante  do  Ceo. 
John  Milton. 
G.  Tersteegen. 
Isaac  Watts. 
Chs.  Wesley. 
Ph.  Doddridge. 
Hannah  More. 
Thomas  Campbell. 
John  Cawood. 


Angels,  from  the  realms  of  glory,  J.  Montgomery. 


What  sudden  blaze  of  song, 
'Tis  come,  the  time  so  oft. 
The  happy  Christmas, 
Carol,  brothers,  carol. 
Come,  ye  lofty !  come,  ye  lowly ! 
Joy  and  gladness. 
It  came  upon  the  midnight  clear, 
Lo,  God,  our  God,  has  come. 


John  Keble. 
Thos.  Grinfield. 
From  the  Danish. 
Wm.  a.  Muhlenberg. 
Archer  Gurney. 
G.  W.  Bethune. 
E.  H.  Sears. 

H.  BONAR. 


In  Bethlehem,  the  Lord  of  glory,    Friedrich  Ruckert. 


Time  of 
composition. 

397 
405 
450 

754 


1361 

1535 
1656 
1656 

1693 
1674 

1731 
1709 

1739 

1 755 
1833 
1844 
1852 

1854 
1S27 
1836 

1840 

1867 
i860 
1868 
1867 


Page. 

39 
40 

43 
45 
47 
48 

49 
50 
52 
53 
54 
56 
58 
61 
62 
63 
.65 
66 
68 
69 
73 
75 
76 
78 
81 
82 
84 
86 
88 
90 
92 
93 


The  Infant  Saviour  with  the  Virgin  Alother. 

The  God  whom  earth  and  sea.      From  the  Latin. 
When  within  His  mother's  ai  ms.    From  the  Latin. 


99 
100 


ft 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


Xlll 


Time  of 
Author.  composition.  Page. 

Sleep,  Holy  Babe,  Edward  Caswall.  102 

Thou  stand'stbetween  the  earth,  Mrs.  G.  W.  Hinsdale.  1867  103 

Hail,  infant  martyrs!  Prudentius.  405  107 

The  Mater  Dolorosa,  Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe,  1867  108 


The  Epiphany. 


A  star  shines  forth  in  heaven, 

Bethlehem !    of  noblest  cities, 

What  star  is  this, 

O  Christ,  our  true  and  only, 

They  gave  to  Thee, 

All  ye  Gentile  lands,  awake  ! 

The  wondering  sages  trace. 

Sons  of  men,  behold  from  far! 

Brightest  and  best  of  the  sons, 

Christ,  whose  first  appearance, 

O  Thou,  who  by  a  star. 

As  with  gladness  men  of  old. 

The  wise  men  to  Thy  cradle. 

We  come  not  with  a  costly  store. 

Hail,  kingly  Jesus! 


Ephr^m  Syrus. 
Prudentius. 
From  the  Latin. 

JOHANN  HeERMANN. 

Jeremy  Taylor. 
Johann  Rist. 
Ernst  Lange. 
Charles  Wesley- 
Bishop  Heber. 
Phil.  Spitta. 
J.  M.  Neale. 
W.  C.  Dix. 
C.  F.  Alexander. 
Anon. 
A.  R.  Thompson. 


Christ's  Life  and  Example. 


Holy  Jesus,  Fount  of  light! 

Come,  my  Way, 

Earth  has  nothing  sweet  or  fair. 

My  dear  Redeemer, 

Jesus,  still  lead  on. 

Oh  for  a  heart  to  praise  my  God! 

Ever  would  I  fain  be  reading, 

Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken. 

Thou  art  the  Way, 

Behold,  where,  in  a  mortal  form. 

How  beauteous  were  the  marks. 

Thine  handmaid.  Saviour! 

Thou  Lord  of  all,  on  earth. 

Trustingly,  trustingly. 


From  the  German. 
George  Herbert. 
Angelus  Silesius. 
Is.  Watts. 

Ct.  Zinzendorf. 

Chs.  Wesley. 

Louise  Hensel. 

H.  F.  Lyte. 

G.  W.  Doane. 

William  Enfield. 

A.  C.  CoxE. 

W.  A.  Muhlenberg. 

S.  P.  Tregelles. 

H.  Bonar. 


379 

III 

405 

113 

114 

1630 

116 

1650 

117 

1655 

118 

1727 

120 

1739 

121 

1826 

122 

1859 

123 

1866 

125 

i860 

126 

1867 

128 

129 

1864 

130 

133 

1632  135 

1677  136 

I7I9  138 

I72I  139 

1742  140 

141 

1833  143 

1859  145 

1772  146 

1818  147 

1859  148 

1867  149 

1868  151 


IZ) 


XIV 


TABLE    OF   CONTENTS. 


The 

Sing,  my  tongue, 

The  rojal  banners  forward  go, 

Forth  tlames  the  standard. 

Hail,  thou  Head! 

Jesus'  holy  Cross  and  dying, 

O'erwhelmed  in  depths  of  woe, 

Stabat  Mater  Dolorosa, 

What  laws,  my  blessed  Saviour, 

O  world  !  behold  upon  the  tree, 

O  sacred  Head!   now  wounded, 

0  sacred  Head,  surrounded, 
Christ,  the  Life  of  all  the  living. 
Thou  Holiest  Love, 

When  I  survey. 
Not  all  the  blood  of  beasts, 
Him  on  yonder  cross  I  love, 
Jesus,  Thy  Blood, 
Sweet  the  moments, 
Surely  Christ  thy  griefs, 
There  is  a  fountain. 
Hark!   the  voice  of  love. 
In  the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory. 
We  sing  the  praise  of  Him, 
Come  to  Calvary's  holy  mount. 
Fling  out  the  Banner! 
Wherefore  weep  we  over  Jesus, 
Ride  on,  ride  on  in  majesty, 
Bound  upon  the  accursed  tree, 
Ask  ye  what  great  thing. 
Oppressed  with  noon-day's, 
Cling  to  the  Crucified! 

1  lay  my  sins  on  Jesus, 
Wouldst  thou  learn  the  depth, 
My  sins,  my  sins, my  Saviour! 
Jesus  !  gentle  Sufferer,  say, 
Thou  who  didst  hang, 


Passion. 

Time  of 
Author.                        composition.  Page. 

Venant.  Fortunatus.    600    155 

Venant.  Fortunatus. 

600 

i.sg 

From  the  Latin. 

161 

St.  Bernard. 

1153 

162 

Bonaventura. 

1274 

165 

From  the  Latin. 

167 

Jacop6ne. 

JOHANN  HeERMANN. 

1306 
1630 

169 

171 

Paul  Gerhardt. 

i6';3 

174 

Paul  Gerhardt. 
Paul  Gerhardt. 

1656 
1656 

178 
182 

E.  C.  Homburg. 

Anon. 

Is.  Watts. 

Is.  Watts. 

J.  E.  Greding. 

Ct.  Zinzendorf. 

Walter  Shirley. 

1659 
1704 
1709 
1748 
1723 
1739 
1774 

183 
185 
187 
188 
189 
191 
193 

A.  M.  TOPLADY. 

W.  Cowper. 
Johnathan  Evans. 
John  Bowring. 

1778 
1779 
1787 
1825 

194 
196 
198 
199 

Thomas  Kelly. 

1855 

200 

James  Montgomery. 

1854 

202 

Bishop  Doane. 

1859 

203 

Phil.  Spitta. 

H.  H.  MiLMAN. 

1836 
1839 

204 
206 

H.  H.  MiLMAN. 

B.  H.  Kennedy. 

HORATIUS  BONAR. 

1839 
i860 

1857 

207 
209 
210 

Horatius  Bonar. 

1857 

211 

HoRATius  Bonar. 

1S57 

212 

J.  S.  B.  Monsell. 

i860 

214 

J.  S.  B.  Monsell. 
J.  S.  B.  Monsell. 
C.  G.  Rossetti. 

1863 
1863 
1866 

215 
217 

218 

^ 

»> 

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( 

) 

c 

b 

TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 

XV 

Time  of 

Author.                      composition. 

Page. 

O  Jesus  I  sweet  the  tears  I  shed, 

Ray  Palmer. 

1867 

219 

Wonder  of  wonders ! 

Ray  Palmer. 

1867 

220 

O  Head,  so  full  of  bruises ! 

Jos.  Stammers. 

1867 

221 

When,  wounded  sore, 

Mrs.  C.  F.  Alexander. 

1867 

222 

Are  there  no  wounds  for  me  ? 

Mrs.  G.  W.  Hinsdale. 

1868 

223 

The  Burial  of  Christ. 

EASTER   EVE. 

The  sepulchre  is  holding, 

From  the  Latin. 

227 

Rest  of  the  weary  I 

Salomon  Frank. 

1711 

228 

Resting  from  His  work  to-day. 

Anon. 

i860 

230 

Rest,  weary  Son  of  God, 

Horatius  Bonar. 

1868 

231 

The  Resurrection. 

Hail,  Day  of  days  I 

Venant.  Fortunatus. 

600 

235 

The  Supper  of  the  Lamb, 

Old  Hymnus  Paschalis 

237 

We  keep  the  festival. 

From  the  R.  Breviary. 

238 

The  Church  of  God, 

Greek  Paschal  Hymn. 

240 

If  the  dark  and  awful  tomb, 

John  of  Damascus. 

787 

241 

'Tis  the  Day  of  Resurrection, 

John  of  Damascus. 

787 

242 

Come,  ye  faithful. 

John  of  Damascus. 

787 

243 

This  holy  morn,  so  fair. 

R.  Breviary.               9th  cent. 

245 

The  morning  purples  all  the  sky. 

R.  Breviary. 

246 

Hallelujah!    Hallelujah! 

From  the  Latin.         12th  cent. 

248 

Behold  the  Day,  the  Lord, 

Adam  of  St.  Victor. 

1172 

249 

Now  thy  gentle  Lamb,  O  Sion, 

From  the  Latin. 

251 

Jesus  Christ  is  risen  to-day, 

From  the  Latin.         15th  cent. 

253 

Let  Zion's  sons  and  daughters, 

From  the  Latin. 

254 

Mary !    put  thy  grief  away, 

From  the  Latin. 

256 

Still  thy  sorrow,  Magdalena ! 

From  the  Latin. 

257 

Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  again  ! 

Mich.  Weiss. 

'^SZ^ 

259 

In  the  bonds  of  death  He  lay, 

Martin  Luther. 

1524 

261  ■ 

Ere  yet  the  dawn, 

Johann  Heekmann. 

1630 

263 

Jesus,  my  Redeemer,  lives. 

L.  H.,  OF  Brandenburg. 

1649 

265 

O  risen  Lord! 

Justus  H.  Boehmer. 

1706 

267 

< 

Blessed  morning. 

Is.  Watts. 

1709 

269 

» 

( 

"    J 

•> 

6 

M 

k< 

4 


XVI 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


Welcome,  Thou  Victor, 

Glorious  Head,  Thou  livest, 

"  Christ  the  Lord  is  risen," 

Jesus  lives,  and  so  shall  I, 

I  say  to  all  men,  far  and  near. 

Come,  ye  saints, 

Morning  breaks  upon  the  tomb. 

Again  the  Lord  of  life  and  light. 

Sun,  shine  forth, 

The  foe  behind,  the  deep  before. 

The  Lord  of  life  is  risen ! 

The  tomb  is  empty, 

Angels,  roll  the  rock  away! 

O  Jesus  !    when  I  think, 

Awake,  glad  soul !    awake, 

In  Thy  glorious  Resurrection, 

Sing  aloud,  children  I 

Why  should  these  eyes, 


Time  of 
Author.                        composition. 

Benj.  Schmolke.              1712 

Page. 
270 

G.  Tersteegen. 

1731 

272 

Chs.  Wesley. 

1739 

273 

C.  F.  Gellert. 

1757 

275 

NOVALIS. 

iSoi 

277 

Ths.  Kelly. 

W.  B.   COLLYER. 

1S04 
1812 

279 

280 

Anne  L.  Barbauld. 

1825 

281 

Phil.  Spitta. 

1833 

283 

J.  M.  Neale. 

1851 

286 

J.  P.  Lange. 

1851 

288 

H.  Bonar. 

1862 

290 

Episcopal  Collection. 

292 

G.  W.  Bethune. 

1862 

293 

John  S.  B.  Monsell 
Chr.  Wordsworth. 

1863 
1863 

294 
296 

A.  R.  Thompson. 
Ray  Palmer. 

1865 
1867 

299 
300 

The  Ascension. 


A  hymn  of  glory  let  us  sing, 
Exalt,  exalt,  the  heavenly, 
Jesus,  Lord  of  life  eternal, 
On  earth  awhile. 
To-day  above  the  sky  He  soared, 
O  Christ,  who  hast  prepared, 
O  Jesu,  who  art  gone  before. 
To-day  our  Lord  went  up, 
Since  Christ  is  gone  to  heaven, 
Lo,  God  to  heaven  ascendeth  ! 
Hosanna  to  the  Prince  of  light. 
Heavenward  doth  our  journey. 
Conquering  Prince  and  Lord, 
Hail  the  day  that  sees  Him, 
Our  Lord  is  risen  from  the  dead, 
All  hail  the  power, 
Soft  cloud,  that, 


Beda  Venerabilis. 
Joseph  of  the  Studium. 
Joseph  of  the  Studium. 
Peter  Abelard. 
From  the  Latin. 
From  the  Latin. 
From  the  Latin. 
Johann  Zwick. 
Jos.  Wegelin. 
G.  W.  Sacer. 
Is.  Watts. 
Benj.  Schmolke. 
G.  Tersteegen. 
Chs.  Wesley. 
Chs.  Wesley. 
E.  Perronet. 
John  Keble. 


735 

305 

830 

306 

830 

307 

1142 

308 

309 

3" 

312 

1540 

313 

1637 

314 

1699 

315 

1709 

317 

1731 

319 

1731 

321 

1739 

323 

1739 

325 

1785 

326 

1827 

328 

tJ 


t 


TABLE    OF   CONTENTS. 


Lamb,  the  once  crucified  ! 
See,  the  Conqueror  mounts, 
He  is  gone ;  beyond  the  skies, 
Sing,  O  Heavens! 


Time  of 
Author.  composition. 

Meta  Heusser.  1831 

Cur.  Wordsworth.  1863 
A.  P.  Stanley. 

J.  S.  B.  MoNSELL.  1863 


xvn 

Page. 
334 

336 

337 


Christ  in  Glorv- 


HIS    INTERCESSION   AND    REIGN. 


Christ,  Thou  the  champion, 
My  Jesus,  if  the  seraphim, 
Jesus  shall  reign. 
Behold  the  glories  of  the  Lamb, 
Rejoice !   the  Lord  is  King, 
Now  let  our  cheerful  eyes. 
Where  high  the  heavenly. 
He  who  on  earth  as  man. 
The  Head  that  once. 
The  atoning  work  is  done, 
Hosanna!    raise  the  pealing. 
See,  the  ransomed  millions, 
Jesus  is  God  I  the  solid  earth, 
King  of  kings,  and  wilt  Thou, 
O  Christ,  the  Lord  of  heaven. 


M.  A.  VON  LOWENSTERN. 

W.  C.  Dessler. 
Is.  Watts. 
Is.  Watts. 
Charles  Wesley. 
Phil.  Doddridge. 
Michael  Bruce, 
John  Newton. 
Thomas  Kelly. 
Thomas  Kelly. 
Anon. 

JOSIAH  CoNDER. 

F.  W.  Faber. 

W.  A.  Muhlenberg. 

Ray  Palmer. 


1644  341 

1693  342 

1719  345 
346 

1745  348 

17.51  349 

1767  350 

1779  352 

1855  353 

1855  354 

1843  356 

1855  357 

1862  358 

1859  360 

1867  361 


Christ  yudging  the   World. 


God  comes ;  —  and  who  shall. 

The  Day  is  near. 

That  great  Day  of  wrath, 

Dayof  wrath  !  thatDay foretold. 

Day  of  wrath  !    O  Day, 

That  Day  of  wrath  ! 

Lo,  the  Day!  —  the  Dayof  Life, 

Wake,  awake. 

Rejoice,  all  ye  believers, 

Lo !    He  comes. 

Day  of  judgment ! 

The  Lord  will  come  I 


Theod.ofthe  Studium.  826  365 

Theod.oftheStudium.  826  366 

From  the  Latin.  7th  cent.  36S 

Thomas  of  Celano.        1250  372 

Dies  IrcB  by  Irons.  1848  376 

Sir  Walter  Scott.         1805  379 

From  the  Latin.  380 

Phil.  Nikolai.  1597  382 

Laurentius  Laurenti.  1700  383 

Chs.  Wesley.  1758  385 

John  Newton.  1807  388 

Bishop  Heber.  1826  390 

B 


D 


" 

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C 

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c 

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3 

Xviii                              TABLE    OF 

CONTENTS. 

rime  of 

Author.                          composition. 

Page. 

Jesus,  Thy  Church, 

W.  H.  Bathurst. 

1830 

391 

The  chariot!    the  chariot! 

H.  H.  MiLMAN. 

1^39 

392 

The  Throne  of  His  Glorj! 

W-  A.  Muhlenberg. 

iS39 

393 

Late,  late,  so  late  ! 

Alfred  Tennyson. 

1850 

394 

Come,  Lord,  and  tarry  not, 

H.  Bonar. 

1857 

395 

Hope  of  our  hearts, 

Sir  Edward  Denny. 

1S63 

39S 

Bride  of  the  Lamb,  awake ! 

Sir  Edward  Denny. 

1863 

399 

^art 

,%£C0ntJ. 

CHRIST    IN    US. 

The  Love  and  Loveliness  of  Christ. 

Jesu,  name  all  names  above. 

Theoctistus. 

890 

403 

Jesu!  the  very  thought  of  Thee, 

St.  Bernard. 

"53 

405 

O  Jesu  !    King  most  wonderful. 

St.  Bernard. 

407 

O  Jesu !   Thou  the  beauty  art, 

St.  Bernard. 

408 

Jesus,  how  sweet  Thy  memory, 

St.  Bernard. 

409 

Heart  of  Christ,  my  King! 

St.  Bernard. 

410 

Fairest  Lord  Jesus, 

Old  German  Song.    12th  cent. 

413 

O  Love,  who  formedst  me. 

Angelus  Silesius. 

1657 

414 

One  thing's  needful : 

J.  H.  Schroder. 

1697 

416 

Dearest  of  all  the  names, 

Is.  Watts. 

1709 

420 

Love  Divine,  all  loves. 

Chs.  Wesley. 

1746 

421 

How  wondrous  are  the  works, 

Jos.  Hart. 

1759 

422 

The  Saviour!  0,  what  charms  ! 

Anne  Steele. 

1760 

424 

Hark,  my  soul !  it  is  the  Lord, 

William  Cowi»er. 

1779 

425 

How  sweet  the  name  of  Jesus, 

John  Newton. 

1779 

426 

One  there  is  above  all  others. 

John  Newton. 

1779 

428 

I  was  a  wandering  sheep. 

HoRATius  Bonar. 

1S57 

429 

Jesus,  how  much  Thy  name. 

Mary  Peters. 

1856 

431 

Still  on  Thy  loving  heart, 

C  J.  P.  Spitta. 

1836 

432 

Our  lot  is  fallen  in  pleasant, 

C.  J.  P.  Spitta. 

1836 

434 

Beneath  the  shadow. 

S.  Longfellow. 

1846 

436 

( 

> 

CI 

3 

•> 

U 

h. 

M 

"» 

_3 

*• 

•^ 

c 

ID 

t 

> 

TABLE 

DF    CONTENTS. 

xix 

Time  of 

Author.                          composition. 

Page. 

Jesus'  name  shall  ever  be, 

W.  A.  Muhlenberg. 

1842 

437 

In  the  silent  midnight  watches,     A.  C.  Coxe. 

1838 

438 

There  is  no  love  like  the  love, 

W.  E.  LiTTLEWOOD. 

439 

Souls  of  men,  why  will  je. 

F.  W.  Faber. 

1862 

440 

I  bore  with  thee  long, 

C.  G.  ROSSETTI. 

1865 

443 

Listen  to  the  wondrous  story. 

Ellin  Isab.  Tupper. 

1867 

444 

1 

There  was  no  angel, 

Mrs.  Hinsdale, 

1868 

446 

Christ  our 

Refuge  and  Strength, 

Fierce  was  the  wild  billow. 

Anatolius. 

458 

451 

Art  thou  weary. 

Stephen  the  Sabaite. 

794 

452 

Lord  Jesus  Christ, 

Johann  Schneesing. 

1522 

454 

Courage,  my  tempted  heart, 

J.  H.  Bohmer. 

1704 

455 

Now  I  have  found  the  ground 

J.  A.  ROTHE. 

1728 

457 

Jesu,  lover  of  my  soul, 

Chs.  Wesley. 

1740 

459 

Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me. 

A.  M.  TOPLADY. 

1776 

461 

Jesus,  pro  me  perforatus. 

ToPLADY.    Gladstone 

1848 

462 

Awake,  sweet  harp  of  Judah, 

Henry  Kirke  White. 

1806 

464 

When  through  the  torn  sail, 

Bishop  Heber. 

1826 

465 

From  every  stormy  wind, 

Hugh  Stowell. 

1S31 

466 

Saviour!    when,  in  dust. 

Sir  Robert  Grant. 

1838 

467 

When  gathering  clouds, 

Sir  Robert  Grant. 

1838 

469 

When  our  heads  are  bowed, 

H.  H.  Milman. 

1839 

470 

With  tearful  eyes, 

Hugh  White. 

1841 

472 

Just  as  I  am. 

Charlotte  Elliott. 

1836 

473 

Just  as  thou  art. 

Russell  S.  Cook. 

1864 

474 

I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say. 

HORATIUS  Bonar. 

1S56 

476 

A  sinful  man  am  I, 

HoRATius  Bonar. 

1868 

477 

Lo !    the  storms  of  life, 

Henry  Alford. 

1864 

47S 

There  is  an  everlasting  home, 

M.  Bridges. 

1S52 

479 

Tossed  with  rough  winds, 

Mrs.  Charles. 

1867 

480 

My  Saviour,  'mid  life's  varied. 

Mrs.  Godwin. 

1S67 

482 

The  way  is  long  and  dreary, 

Adelaide  A.  Procter. 

1864 

4S3 

In  the  hours  of  pain, 

Helen  L.  Parmelee. 

1865 

4S4 

Amid  the  darkness. 

Ray  Palmer. 

•1867 

486 

c 

I  need  Thee,  precious  Jesu, 

F.  Whitfield. 

1867 

487 

> 

cz 

Z) 

a 

0 

kt 

w 

XX 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


Christ 

O  Friend  of  souls  !   how  blest, 

Thou  hidden  Source, 

The  world  can  neither  give, 

Come,  weary  souls, 

Jesus,  my  Lord,  Thy  nearness, 

O  for  a  closer  walk  with  God  ! 

Why  should  I  fear? 

Jesus,  my  Lord  !    my  life! 

If  only  I  have  Thee, 

Trembling  before  Thy  throne, 

Yes  !   our  Shepherd  leads. 

Long  did  I  toil, 

O  blessed  Sun,  whose  splendor. 

Now  I  have  found  a  friend. 

Through  the  love  of  God, 

Rest,  weary  soul ! 

I've  found  a  joy  in  sorrow. 

Let  not  your  heart  be  faint, 

Rest  of  the  weary, 

Jesus,  my  Lord,  'tis  sweet, 

When  across  the  heart, 

Sweet  was  the  hour,  O  Lord, 

When  winds  are  raging, 

Alone  with  Thee ! 

Jesus  !    the  rays  divine. 

Abide  with  me  1 


our  Peace. 

Time  of 
Author.                          composition. 

W.  C.  Dessler.                 1692 

Page. 
491 

Chs.  Wesley. 
Lady  Huntingdon. 

1740 
1780 

493 
494 

Anne  Steele. 

1778 

49.'5 

Christian  Gregor. 

W.   COWPER. 

John  Newton. 
S.  Medley. 

NOVALIS. 

1778 
1779 
1779 
1799 
1801 

496 
498 

499 
501 
503 

A.  L.  HiLLHOUSE. 

1822 

504 

F.  A.  Krummacher. 
H.  F.  Lyte. 
C.  J.  P.  Spitta. 
Henry  Hope. 

1830 

1833 
1836 

1852 

505 
507 
50S 

.SI  I 

Mrs.  Mary  Peters. 

1847 

,'513 

Anon. 

Mrs.  Jane  Crewdson. 

1859 
1863 

.SI.5 

John  A.  Latrobe. 
John  S.  B.  Monsell. 

1863 
1863 

517 

518 

Anon. 

Canterbury  Hymnal. 

1865 
1863 

519 

521 

Sir  E.  Denny. 
Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe. 
Ray  Palmer. 

1863 
1867 
1867 

523 
523 
524 

Mrs.  G.  W.  Hinsdale. 

1868 

526 

H.  F.  Lyte. 

1847 

527 

Faith  in  Christ. 


When  sins  and  fears  prevailing, 
See  a  poor  sinner,  dearest  Lord, 
Amid  life's  wild  commotion, 
I  know  in  whom  I  put  my  trust. 
My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee, 
Hallelujah  !    I  believe ! 
O  holy  Saviour,  P>iend  unseen. 


Anne  Steele. 

1778 

.';3i 

S.  Medley. 

1799 

532 

C.  J.  Asschenfeld. 

1819 

533 

E.  M.  Arndt. 

1819 

534 

Ray  Palmer. 

1830 

536 

H.  MOVVTES. 

1831 

537 

Charlotte  Elliott. 

1836 

539 

c 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


I  once  was  a  stranger, 

While  Faith  is  with  me, 

We  were  not  with  the  faithful, 

Life's  mjstery. 

When  time  seems  short, 

Strong  Son  of  God, 


Time  of 
composition. 

1843 


Author. 

R.  M.  McCheyne. 
Anne  Bronte. 
Canterbury  Hymnal.   1863 
Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe.  1867 

G.  W.  Bethune.  1862 

Alfred  Tennyson.         1849 


XXI 

Page. 
540 

542 
543 
544 
546 
547 


Union  with  Christ. 


How  lovely  shines, 

Lord,  Thou  art  mine, 

I  leave  Thee  not. 

My  Saviour!    I  am  Thine! 

Jesus  immutably  the  same, 

Jesus,  lead  us  with  Thy  power. 

Sun  of  my  soul, 

Ah  !  Jesus,  let  me  hear. 

When  in  the  hour  of  lonely. 

In  Thy  service  will  I  ever, 

O  happy  house  !    where  Thou, 

Chief  of  sinners  though  I  be. 

On  Thee,  O  Jesus  ! 

Lord,  let  my  heart  still  turn, 

That  mystic  word  of  Thine, 

Still,  still  with  Thee, 

Jesus  1   I  live  to  Thee, 

O  blessed  Lord ! 


Phil.  Nikolai.  1597  55^ 

George  Herbert.  1632  554 

W.  C.Dessler.  1722  555 

Phil.  Doddridge.  1755  558 

A.  M.  Toplady.  1776  559 

W.  Williams.  1791  561 

John  Keble.  1827  562 

Andrew  Reed.  1841  564 

Josiah  Conder.  1855  565 

Phil.  Spitta.  1836  566 

Phil.  Spitta.  1859  5^8 

Wm.  McComb.  1864  570 

Horatius  Bonar.  1868  571 

Lady  Powerscourt.  1865  573 

Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe.  1867  574 

Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe.  1867  575 

H.  Harbaugh.  1867  577 

A.  D.  F.  Randolph.  1868  578 


The  Holy  Communion. 


O  Lamb  of  God,  who,  bleeding. 
Sing,  my  tongue. 
Sing,  and  the  mystery  declare, 
O  Bread  of  Life  from  heaven. 
Deck  thyself,  my  soul, 
Suffering  Saviour, 


Nik.  Decius. 
Thomas  AqyiNAS. 
Thomas  AqyiNAS. 
From  the  Latin. 
JoHANN  Frank. 
Anon. 


1533  583 
1274  584 
1274  587 
14th  cent.  589 
1650  590 
59^ 


D 


XXll 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


Twas  on  that  dark, 

In  memory  of  the  Saviour's, 

Body  of  Jesus,  O  sweet  food  ! 

O  God,  unseen,  yet  ever  near, 

Jesu,  to  Thy  table  led, 

By  Christ  redeemed, 

Lo,  the  feast  is  spread  to-day!       Henry  Alford. 


Time  of 

Author. 

composition. 

Page. 

Is.  Watts. 

1748 

594 

Anon. 

1843 

595 

A.  C.  CoxE. 

1858 

595 

Anon. 

i860 

596 

RoBT.  H.  Baynes. 

1863 

597 

Anon. 

1863 

59S 

1865    600 


Love  and  Gratitude  to  Christ. 


Jesus,  Thou  Joy  of  loving  hearts, 
I  give  my  heart  to  Thee, 
Jesus,  I  love  Thee, 
Jesus,  I  love  Thee  evermore, 

0  Lord!   I  love  Thee, 
Jesus,  Thy  boundless  love, 

1  place  an  offering. 
The  Lord  of  all  things. 
Yes  :   I  will  always  love, 
O  Love  divine, 

Jesus,  I  love  Thy  name, 
Compared  with  Christ, 
When  this  passing  world. 
Oh  how  could  I  forget  Him, 
O  abide,  abide  in  Jesus! 
More  than  all, 
Lovest  thou  Me.'' 
Jesu,  my  Lord,  my  God, 
Jesus,  these  eyes  have  never. 
That  Holy  One, 


St.  Bernard. 

"53 

603 

From  the  Latin. 

604 

Francis  Xavier. 

1540 

606 

From  the  Latin. 

608 

Martin  Schalling. 

1571 

609 

Paul  Gerhardt. 

1653 

611 

Mme.  Guyon. 

1717 

612 

Mme.  Guyon. 

1717 

61S 

Mme.  Guyon. 

1717 

614 

Chs.  Wesley. 

1749 

615 

Ph.  Doddridge. 

1751 

617 

A.  M.  Toplady. 

1772 

618 

R.  M.  McCheyne. 

1S43 

619 

G.  Chr.  Kern. 

1S35 

622 

Ph.  Spitta. 

1836 

623 

Albert  Knapp. 

1823 

625 

J.  Montgomery. 

1853 

626 

i860 

627 

Ray  Palmer. 

1858 

628 

A.  D.  F.  Randolph. 

1867 

629 

For  Ever  with  Christ. 


My  home  in  heaven  alone. 
Cease,  ye  tearful  mourners, 
No  more,  ah,  no  more. 
With  terror  Thou  dost  strike. 


Gregory  Nazianzen. 

390 

63.-! 

Prudentius. 

405 

635 

Prudentius. 

405 

638 

Peter  Damiani. 

1072 

640 

5 


m 

,0 

«• 

D 

d 

3 

t 

' 

> 

TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 

xxiii 

Brief  life  is  here  our  portion, 

Time  of 
Author.                        composition. 

Bernard  of  Cluny.        1145 

Page. 
643 

For  thee,  O  dear,  dear  Country, 

Bernard  of  Cluny. 

1 145 

645 

Jerusalem  the  golden, 

Bernard  of  Cluny. 

"45 

647 

The  Life  above, 

St.  Teresa. 

15S2 

649 

Lord,  it  belongs  not  to  my  care, 

Richard  Baxter. 

1691 

651 

Thou  shalt  rise! 

F.  G.  Klopstock. 

1803 

652 

Asleep  in  Jesus ! 

Margaret  Mackay. 

1832 

653 

Let  me  be  with  Thee, 

Charlotte  Elliott. 

1836 

654 

We  speak  of  the  realms. 

Mrs.  Wilson. 

1837 

6.55 

Since  o'er  Thy  footstool, 

W.  A.  Muhlenberg. 

1S24 

656 

Oh,  Paradise  must  fairer  be! 

Friedrich  Ruckert. 

1866 

657 

O  Paradise !    O  Paradise ! 

F.  W.  Faber. 

1S62 

659 

No,  no,  it  is  not  dying. 

Cesar  Malan. 

1841 

661 

It  is  not  death  to  die, 

George  W.  Bethune. 

1847 

662 

O  sweet  home-echo ! 

Mrs.  M.  Heusser. 

1845 

663 

There  is  a  blessfed  home, 

Sir  H.  W.  Baker. 

1861 

665 

Star  of  morn  and  even, 

F.  T.  Palgrave. 

1862 

667 

O  Heaven  !    Sweet  Heaven  ! 

Edwin  H  Nevin. 

1862 

668 

Oh  for  the  robes  of  whiteness ! 

Charitie  Lees  Smith. 

669 

Oh  for  the  peace  which  floweth, 

Jane  Crewdson. 

1863 

670 

We  shall  see  Him, 

Anon. 

1868 

672 

Praise  and  Adoration  of  Christ. 

Shepherd  of  tender  youth, 

Clement  of  Alex. 

200 

675 

Thee  we  adore,  eternal  Lord, 

From  the  Te  Deum. 

400 

677 

I  greet  Thee, 

John  Calvin. 

1564 

678 

Come,  let  us  join, 

Is.  Watts. 

1709 

681 

O  for  a  thousand  tongues ! 

Chs.  Wesley. 

1740 

682 

Awake,  and  sing  the  song, 

Wm.  Hammond. 

1745 

684 

Hail,  Thou  once  despised  Jesus  ! 

John  Bakewell. 

1760 

685 

Now  let  us  join, 

John  Newton. 

1779 

687 

Awake,  my  soul,  in  joyful  lays, 

S.  Medley. 

1799 

688 

Hosanna  to  the  living  Lord ! 

Bishop  Heber. 

1827 

690 

Thou  whom  we  seek, 

L.  Uhland. 

1833 

691 

To  Him,  who  for  our  sins, 

A.  T.  Russell. 

1851 

692 

c 

Thou  that  art  the  Father's. 

Henry  Alford. 

1865 

693 

) 

d 

L 

J 

6 — 

M 

ID 

Xxiv                             TABLE 

OF    CONTENTS. 

Time  of 

Author. 

composition. 

Page. 

Praise  to  Jesus ! 

William  Ball. 

1864 

694 

Thou  King  anointed, 

James  Inglis. 

1868 

696 

Glory  be  to  God  the  Father ! 

H.  BONAR. 

1868 

698 

FINALE. 
Christ  the  theme  of  song,       A.  D.  F.  Randolph.        1868    699 


SALVATOR  MUNDI. 


By  the  Rev.  Ray  Palmer,  D.D.,  New  York.  (Bom  at  Little  Compton,  R.I., 
1808,  author  of  "My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee.")  Written  for  this  Collection,  as  a 
Prelude,  at  the  request  of  the  Editor,   February,  1868. 


/^H  !  long  and  darksome  was  the  night 
^^-^     That  in  dull  watches  wore  away, 
With  moon  and  stars  alone  to  light 
A  world  bewildered  and  astray ; 

While  oft  thick  shade  and  murky  cloud 
Pale  moon  and  stars  did  deep  enshroud  ; 
And  nations  looked,  and  hoped  in  vain 
That  over  earth,  of  guilt  and  sorrow, 
Of  sin  and  hate,  the  sad  domain. 
Might  dawn  a  bright  and  cheerful  morrow. 

'Twas  not,  Eternal  Love,  that  Thou 

Hadst  lost  Thy  care  for  mortal  men  : 
No,  Thou  didst  yearn  of  old,  as  now, 
To  fold  them  to  Thy  heart  again  ; 

Thou  didst  but  wait  till  men  might  know 
That  sin's  ripe  fruits  were  death  and  w.oe  ; 
Till,  worn  and  sick  of  fruitless  grief. 
Of  lust's  foul  cup  to  loathing  taken. 
With  longing  they  might  crave  relief 
Ere  yet  of  God  and  hope  forsaken. 


D 


SALVATOR    MUNDI. 

There  were  who  heard  with  trustuig  heart, 

E'en  then.  Thy  words  of  hope  and  cheer ; 
Who  saw  by  faith  the  night  depart, 
And  morning  break  serene  and  clear. 
On  holy  prophets  shone  afar 
The  gleam  of  Jacob's  promised  Star; 
The  rising  of  the  Lord  of  day, 
That,  o'er  the  world  his  radiance  throwing, 
Should  chase  the  spectral  night  away. 
And  mount  to  noon  resplendent  glowing. 


When  Thou,  O  Christ !  of  flesh  wast  born. 

To  greet  Thee  in  Thy  humble  bed, 
Though  earth  Thy  lowliness  should  scorn, 
Celestial  bands  with  rapture  sped  ; 
At  midnight  on  the  silent  air 
Thy  birth  their  floating  strains  declare : 
The  shepherds  catch  the  thrilling  lay. 
In  harmonies  their  senses  steeping ; 
Then  to  Thy  manger  take  their  way. 
And  gaze  on  Thee,  an  infant  sleeping ! 


While  Thou  didst  dwell  with  men  below, 

'Twas  morning  twilight's  early  blush  ; 
Thy  light  yet  veiled,  'twas  Thine  to  know 

Sweet  childhood's  dream,  youth's  joyous  flush  ; 
Then  manhood's  burdens,  cares,  and  fears, 
Its  toils  and  weariness  and  tears ; 
Teai's  shed  for  human  grief  and  woes 
Mark  Thee,  of  all,  the  Man  of  Sorrows  : 


VJ 


SALVATOR    MUNDI. 

And  through  Thy  life  the  grandeur  grows 
That  manhood  from  the  Godhead  borrows ! 

When,  all  forsaken  of  Thine  own, 

Robed  in  mock  purple  Thou  didst  stand, 
Thou  wast  a  King  —  without  a  throne  ; 
A  Sovereign  Lord  —  without  command; 
'Neath  purple  robe  and  thorns  concealed, 
Divinity  its  light  revealed  ; 
Upon  the  Roman's  heart  it  fell, 
And  its  keen  flash,  his  conscience  waking, 
Wrought  in  him  like  some  mighty  spell, 
The  pride  of  his  strong  spirit  breaking. 

When  came  at  last  Thy  darkest  hour, 
On  which  the  sun  refused  to  look, 

Though  hell  seemed  armed  with  conquering  power, 
And  earth,  as  seized  with  terror,  shook; 
Though  from  Thy  lips  the  dying  cry, 
By  anguish  wrung,  went  up  on  high ; 

Still,  'mid  the  darkness  and  the  fear, 

O  Son  of  God  !  Thy  life  resigning, 

Thou  didst  to  those  that  saw  appear 

The  Light  of  men,  —  eclipsed,  yet  shining! 

E'en  the  dark  tomb  of  chiselled  rock 

Thy  glory  could  not  all  repress  : 
A  moment  hid,  with  earthquake  shock 
Abroad  it  streamed  again  to  bless  ; 
Angels  first  caught  the  vision  bright. 
Then  broke  its  beams  on  mortal  sight ; 


:zD 


SALVATOR    MUNDI. 

The  Conqueror  of  Death  and  Hell, 
Thou  stoodst,  Thine  own  each  word  attending, 
Till  on  their  wistful  eyes  there  fell 
Splendors  divine  from  Thee  ascending ! 

For  ever  on  the  unveiled  throne, 

O  Lamb  divine  !   enrobed  in  light. 
Thou  life  and  love,  and  joy  unknown. 
Dost  shed  while  ages  wing  their  flight ; 

The  cherubim  before  Thee  bow  ; 

The  fulness  of  the  Godhead  Thou  ! 
Thy  uncreated  beauty  greets 
The  longing  eyes  that,  upward  gazing, 
Feast  on  Thy  smile,  that  ever  meets 
Thy  saints  that  wait  before  Thee  praising. 

Head  over  all !  'tis  Thine  to  reign  ; 

The  groaning  earth  with  joy  shall  see 
What  ages  sought,  but  sought  in  vain. 

The  balm  for  all  its  woes  in  Thee  ; 

Eyes  fixed  on  Thee  shall  dry  their  tears  ; 
Hearts  stayed  on  Thee  shall  lose  their  fears ; 
Fair  innocence  and  love  shall  breathe 
Their  fragrant  breath  o'er  vale  and  mountain, 
And  Faith  pure  altars  shall  enwreathe. 
And  nations  bathe  in  Calvary's  fountain. 

Crowned  Lord  of  lords.  Thy  power  shall  bring 

All  Thine  Thy  glory  to  partake  ; 
Thyself  enthroned  Eternal  King, 

Of  them  Thy  love  shall  Princes  make  ; 


U 


SALVATOR    MUNDI. 

And  Priests,  that  in  the  Holy  Place 
Shall  serve,  adorned  and  full  of  grace  ; 

The  Church,  Thy  queenly  Bride,  shall  stand 

In  vesture  like  Thy  brightness  shining, 

Content  to  clasp  Thy  royal  hand, 

All  other  love  for  Thine  resigning. 

O  Love  beyond  all  mortal  thought ! 

Unquenchable  by  flood  or  sea  ! 
Love  that,  through  death,  to  man  hath  brought 

The  life  of  Immortality  ! 

Thou  dost  enkindle  Heaven's  own  fire 
In  hearts  all  dead  to  high  desire. 
Let  love  for  love  our  souls  inflame, 
The  perfect  love  that  faileth  never ; 
And  sweet  Hosannas  to  Thy  Name 
Through  Heaven's  vast  dome  go  up  for  ever ! 


THE    ADVENT. 


"Arise,  shine;  for  thy  light  is  come,  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  is  risen  upon 
thee."  —  IsA.  be.  i. 

"  The  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is  at  hand :  let  us  therefore  cast  off  the  works  of 
darkness,  and  let  us  put  on  the  armor  of  light."  —  Rom.  xiii.  12. 


\  LMIGHTY  GOD,  Father  of  all  mercies,  we  render  Thee 
most  hearty  thanks,  that  after  man,  created  in  Thine  own 
image,  had  fallen  under  the  curse  of  sin  and  death.  Thou  didst 
not  leave  him  to  perish  in  helpless  misery,  but  didst  provide  a 
Saviour,  and  proclaim  to  the  fathers,  by  the  mouth  of  Thy  proph- 
ets and  holy  men  of  old,  the  Advent  of  Thy  dear  Son,  the  Hope 
of  Israel,  the  Desire  of  all  nations,  the  Redeemer  of  the  world, 
that,  by  believing  on  Him,  we  might  have  the  forgiveness  of  bins, 
and  life  everlasting :  to  whom,  with  Thee  and  the  Holy  Ghost, 
ever  one  God,  be  glory  and  thanksgiving,  world  without  end. 
Amen. 

"  Tandem  fluctus,  tandem  kictus, 
Sol  erumpens  teniperat ; 
Nunc  aurora, rupta  mora, 
Lucem  lactam  iiuncint." 

Oi.D  Hymn. 


fl 


n 


THE     ADVENT. 


O  THOU  REDEEMER   OF  OUR  RACEl 

(  Veni,  Redemptor  gentium^') 


From  the  Latin  of  St.  Ambrose,  Bishop  of  Milan,  the  father  of  Latin  church 
poetry  (died  397).  Translated  for  this  Collection  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ray  Palmer, 
April,  186S.  The  best  of  the  Ambrosian  hymns  (except  the  Te  Deum,  which  is  older), 
full  of  faith,  rugged  vigor,  austere  simplicity,  and  bold  contrasts,  but  of  objectionable 
taste  in  st.  3,  vs4iich  is  here  smoothed  down.  It  has  been  freely  reproduced  in  Ger- 
man by  Luther  (Nu  komtn  der  Heideii  ffeiland).  John  Frank  {Komm,  Heiden- 
heilandi  L'Csegeld)^  and  others  (see  Schaff's  German  Hytnn  Book,  No.  72),  and 
several  times  in  English.  Dr.  J.  M.  Neale's  version,  "Come,  Thou  Redeemer  of 
the  Earth,"  retains  the  harsh  features  of  the  original,  and  is  not  as  happy  as  some 
other  translations  of  this  great  master.  Upon  the  whole,  I  prefer  Dr.  Palmer's  (which 
here  appears  for  the  first  time)  to  other  English  translations.  St.  Augustine,  in 
his  "  Confessions,"  testifies  to  the  effect  of  the  hymns  and  music  introduced  into  the 
church  of  Milan  by  Ambrose,  his  spiritual  father.  "  How  did  I  weep,  O  Lord  1 
through  Thy  hymns  and  canticles,  touched  to  the  quick  by  the  voices  of  Thy  sweet- 
attuned  church  I  The  voices  sank  into  mine  ears,  and  the  truths  distilled  into  my 
heart,  whence  the  affections  of  my  devotions  overflowed ;  tears  ran  down,  and  I 
rejoiced  in  them." 


/^  THOU  Redeemer  of  our  race  ! 
^-^^  Come,  show  the  Virgin's  Son  to  earth 
Let  every  age  admire  the  grace ; 
Worthy  a  God  Thy  human  birth  ! 

'Twas  by  no  mortal  will  or  aid, 
But  by  the  Holy  Spirit's  might, 
That  flesh  the  Word  of  God  was  made, 
A  babe  yet  waiting  for  the  light. 


lO 


THE    ADVENT. 


Spotless  remains  the  Virgin's  name, 
Although  the  Holy  Child  she  bears  ; 
And  virtue's  banners  round  her  flame, 
While  God  a  temple  so  prepares. 

As  if  from  honors  royal  hall, 
Comes  forth  at  length  the  Mighty  One, 
Whom  Son  of  God  and  Man  they  call, 
Eager  His  destined  course  to  run.^ 

Forth  from  the  Father's  bosom  sent, 
To  Him  returned,  He  claimed  His  own 
Down  to  the  realms  of  death  He  went. 
Then  rose  to  share  the  eternal  throne. 

An  equal  at  the  Father's  side, 

Thou  wear'st  the  trophy  ^  of  Thy  flesh  ; 


1  In  the  orijjinal ; 


"  Geminae  gigas  substantia, 
Alacrls  ut  currat  viam." 


The  giant  of  two-fold  substance  is  an  allusion  to  the  "giants" 
of  Gen.  vi.  4,  who,  by  some  of  the  early  Fathers,  were  sup- 
posed to  have  been  of  a  double  nature;  being  the  offspring 
of  the  "  sons  of  God,"  or  angels  (  ?),  and  the  "  daughters  of  men," 
and  who  furnished  a  forced  resemblance  to  the  two-fold  nature  of 
Christ,  according  to  the  mystical  interpretation  of  Ps.  xix.  5, 
"  as  a  bridegroom  cometh  out  of  his  chamber,  ...  as  a  strong 
man  to  run  a  race,"  which  was  referred  to  the  earthly  course  of 
the  Redeemer.     Comp.  Ambrosius  :  De  hicarnat.  Domini,  c.  5. 

2  Not  "  mantle."  TropcEo  or  tropkcEO  is  undoubtedly  the  true 
reading  (for  stropheo  or  strophio^.  The  Fathers  frequently  call 
the  risen  flesh  of  Christ  tropcBum,  rpoKaiov  KaTu  8ai/idvo)v,  a  trophy 
erected  as  a  monument  of  His  victory  over  death. — Daniel: 
Thesaurus  Hymnol.,  I.  p.  14;  Trench:  Sacred  Latin  Poetry, 
2d  ed.,  p.  69. 


c 


BEHOLD,    THE    BRIDEGROOM    COMETH. 

In  Thee  our  nature  shall  abide 

In  strength  complete,  in  beauty  fresh. 

With  light  divine  Thy  manger  streams, 
That  kindles  darkness  into  day  ; 
Dimmed  by  no  night  henceforth,  its  beams 
Shine  through  all  time  with  changeless  ray. 


n 


BEHOLD,  THE  BRIDEGROOM  COMETH. 


Midnight  Hymn  of  the  Eastern  Church.     From  the  Greek,  by  G.  Moultrie, 
Hymns  and  Lyrics,  &c.,  Lond.  1867. 


TDEHOLD,  the  Bridegroom  cometh  in  the  middle 

-*^  of  the  night. 

And  blest  is  he  whose  loins  are  girt,  whose  lamp  is 
burning  bright ; 

But  woe  to  that  dull  servant  whom  the  Master  shall 
surprise 

With  lamp  untrimmed,  unburning,  and  with  slum- 
ber in  his  eyes  ! 

Do  thou,   my  soul,  beware,  beware,  lest  thou  in 

sleep  sink  down, 
Lest  thou  be  given  o'er  to  death,  and  lose  the  golden 

crown  ; 
But  see  that  thou  be  sober,  with  watchful  eyes,  and 

thus 
Cry,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  God,  have  mercy  upon  us  !  " 


5 


D 


s± . ^ 


12  THE    ADVENT. 

That  day,  the  day  of  fear,  shall  come  :    my  soul, 

slack  not  thy  toil, 
But  light  thy  lamp,  and  feed  it  well,  and  make  it 

bric]cht  with  oil ; 
Who  knowest  not  how  soon  may  sound  the  cry  at 

eventide, 
"  Behold,  the  Bridegroom  comes  !    Arise  !    Go  forth 

to  meet  the  Bride."  ^ 

Beware,    my   soul ;    beware,  beware,  lest  thou  in 

slumber  lie. 
And,  like  the  five,  remain  without,  and  knock  and 

vainly  cry ; 
But   watch,    and    bear   thy   lamp   undimmed,    and 

Christ  shall  gird  thee  on 
His  own  bright  wedding-robe  of  light,  —  the  glory 

of  the  Son. 

— *—— 

ON  JORDAN'S   BANK. 

{Jordanis  oras  frcevia  vox  ecce  Baptistce  qitatit.') 


From  the  Latin,  by  the  Rev.  J.  Chandler.      Ttie  Hymns  of  the  Primitive 
Church,  Loud.  1837. 


o 


N  Jordan's  bank,  the  Baptist's  cry 
Announces  that  the  Lord  is  nigh  : 

1  For  the  received  text,  Matt.  xxv.  i:  "to  meet  the  bride- 
groom." But  there  is  another  reading  in  Greek:  "to  meet  the 
bridegroom  and  the  bride"  (the  Church).  It  was  a  custom 
among  the  Jews  and  Greeks  that  the  bridegroom,  accompanied 
b_v  his  friends,  went  to  the  house  of  the  bride,  to  lead  her  to  his 
own  home;  and,  on  his  returning  with  her,  he  was  joined  bj 
the  virgins,  the  friends  of  the  bride. 


ON  JORDAN S    BANK.  13 

Come,  then,  and  hearken ;  for  He  brings 
Glad  tidings  from  the  King  of  kings. 

E'en  now  the  air,  the  sea,  the  land, 
Feel  that  their  Maker  is  at  hand ; 
The  very  elements  rejoice. 
And  welcome  Him  with  cheerful  voice. 

Then  cleansed  be  every  Christian  breast, 
And  furnished  for  so  great  a  Guest ! 
Yea,  let  us  each  our  hearts  prepare 
For  Christ  to  come  and  enter  there. 

For  Thou  art  our  salvation.  Lord,  — 
Our  refuge  and  our  great  reward ; 
Without  Thy  grace,  our  souls  must  fade, 
And  wither  like  a  flower  decayed. 

Stretch  forth  Thy  hand,  to  heal  our  sore, 
And  make  us  rise,  to  fall  no  more ; 
Once  more  upon  Thy  people  shine, 
And  fill  the  world  with  love  divine. 

To  Him,  who  left  the  throne  of  heaven 
To  save  mankind,  all  praise  be  given  ! 
Like  praise  be  to  the  Father  done, 
And  Holy  Spirit,  —  Three  in  One  ! 


c 


±i 


14  THE    ADVENT. 

DRAW  NIGH,  DRAW  NIGH,  EMMANUEL. 

(  Venz,  vent,  JSmmanueL') 


From  the  Latin  of  the  twelfth  century,  by  Dr.  J.  M.  Nkale  (died  1866) :  Media-val 
Hyinns  and  Sequences,  3d  ed.,  Lond.  1S67.  "This  Advent  hymn  is  little  more  than 
a  versification  of  some  of  the  Christmas  antiphons  commonly  called  the  O's."  It  is 
found  also  in  the  Hymnal  Noted ;  in  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern,  and  other  collec- 
tions.    See  the  Latin  in  Daniel,  Tftes.,  Tom.  IL  p.  336. 


"T^RAW  nigh,  draw  nigh,  Emmanuel, 
"^^^   And  ransom  captive  Israel, 
That  mourns  in  lonely  exile  here, 
Until  the  Son  of  God  appear. 
Rejoice  !  rejoice  !  Emmanuel 
Shall  be  born  for  thee,  O  Israel ! 

Draw  nigh,  O  Jesse's  Rod  !  draw  nigh. 
To  free  us  from  the  enemy. 
From  hell's  infernal  pit  to  save, 
And  give  us  victory  o'er  the  grave. 
Rejoice  !  rejoice  !  Emmanuel 
Shall  be  born  for  thee,  O  Israel  I 

Draw  nigh,  Thou  Orient,  Who  shalt  cheer 
And  comfort  by  Thine  Advent  here. 
And  banish  far  the  brooding  gloom 
Of  sinful  night  and  endless  doom. 
Rejoice  !  rejoice  !  Emmanuel 
Shall  be  born  for  thee,  O  Israel  1 


D 


u 


& 


ONCE    HE    CAME    IN    BLESSING.  I5 

Draw  nigh,  draw  nigh,  O  David's  Key  ; 
The  heavenly  gate  will  ope  to  Thee  : 
Make  safe  the  way  that  leads  on  high, 
And  close  the  path  to  misery. 
Rejoice  !  rejoice  !  Emmanuel 
Shall  be  born  for  thee,  O  Israel ! 

Draw  nigh,  draw  nigh,  O  Lord  of  Might, 
Who  to  Thy  tribes,  from  Sinai's  height, 
In  ancient  time  didst  give  the  law, 
In  cloud  and  majesty  and  awe. 
Rejoice  !  rejoice  !  Emmanuel 
Shall  be  born  for  thee,  O  Israel  I 


ONCE   HE   CAME   IN   BLESSING. 

(^Gottes  Sohn  ist  kommeii.') 


From  the  German  of  Michael  Weiss,  who  reproduced  the  old  hymns  of  the 
Bohemian  (Moravian)  Brethren  in  German,  1531.    Translated  by  Miss  Catherine 

WiNKWORTH,   1862. 


/^NCE  He  came  in  blessing, 
^^  All  our  ills  redressing,  — 
Came  in  likeness  lowly, 
Son  of  God  most  holy  ; 
Bore  the  Cross  to  save  us, 
Hope  and  freedom  gave  us. 


A 


ff 


l6  THE    ADVENT. 

Still  He  comes  within  us : 
Still  His  voice  would  win  us 
From  the  sins  that  hurt  us, 
Would  to  Truth  convert  us 
From  our  foolish  errors, 
Ere  He  comes  in  terrors. 

Thus,  if  thou  hast  known  Him, 
Not  ashamed  to  own  Him, 
Nor  dost  love  Him  coldly, 
But  will  trust  Him  boldly. 
He  will  now  receive  thee. 
Heal  thee,  and  forgive  thee. 

But  through  many  a  trial. 
Deepest  self-denial. 
Long  and  brave  endurance, 
Must  thou  win  assurance 
That  His  own  He  makes  thee, 
And  no  more  forsakes  thee. 

He  who  thus  endureth. 
Bright  reward  secureth  : 
Come,  then,  O  Lord  Jesus ! 
From  our  sins  release  us  ; 
Let  us  here  confess  Thee, 
Till  in  heaven  we  bless  Thee. 


LIFT  UP  YOUR  HEADS,  YE  MIGHTY  GATES  !   I7 


LIFT  UP  YOUR   HEADS,   YE  MIGHTY 
GATES  ! 

(^Mac/it  hock  die  Tli'u.r\  die  Tkor'  mac/it  -weiti) 


Abridged  from  the  German  of  Georg  Weissel,  1630.  Based  upon  Ps.  xxiv.,  as 
applied  to  the  coming  of  Christ  in  the  flesh.  The  original  has  five  stanzas,  of  eight 
unequal  lines  each,  and  is  translated  in  Lyra  Germ.,  I.  pp.  10,  11.  The  Canterbury 
Hymtial  has  reduced  the  whole  to  three  stanzas,  of  six  lines  each. 


T    IFT  up  your  heads,  ye  mighty  gates  I 
■^^   Behold,  the  King  of  glory  waits ; 
The  King  of  kings  is  drawing  near, 
The  Saviour  of  the  world  is  here. 

The  Lord  is  just,  a  Helper  tried ; 
Mercy  is  ever  at  His  side : 
His  kingly  crown  is  holiness  ; 
His  sceptre,  pity  in  distress. 

Oh,  blest  the  land,  the  city  blest, 
Where  Christ  the  Ruler  is  confessed  ! 
Oh,  happy  hearts  and  happy  homes 
To  whom  this  King  of  triumph  comes  ! 

Fling  wide  the  portals  of  your  heart ; 
Make  it  a  temple,  set  apart 
From  earthly  use  for  heaven's  employ. 
Adorned  with  prayer  and  love  and  joy. 


1 8  THE    ADVENT. 

Redeemer,  come  !  I  open  wide 
My  heart  to  Thee  :  here,  Lord,  abide  J 
Let  me  Thy  inner  presence  feel. 
Thy  grace  and  love  in  me  reveal. 

So  come,  my  Sovereign  !  enter  in, 
Let  new  and  nobler  life  begin ; 
Thy  Holy  Spirit  guide  us  on, 
Until  the  glorious  crown  be  won  ! 


LET  THE  EARTH   NOW  PRAISE 
THE  LORD. 

(^Gott  sei  Dank  durch  alle  Weli.) 


A  popular  German  Advent  hymn,  by  Heinrich  Held,  a  lawyer  of  Silesia,  died 
1643.  Translated  by  Miss  C.  Winkworth,  in  the  original  metre,  omitting  ver.  7 
{Choral  Book  for  England,  1862). 


T    ET  the  earth  now  praise  the  Lord, 
-^^   Who  hath  truly  kept  His  word. 
And  the  sinner's  Help  and  Friend 
Now  at  last  to  us  doth  send. 

What  the  fathers  most  desired, 
What  the  prophets'  hearts  inspired, 
What  they  longed  for  many  a  year, 
Stands  fulfilled  in  glory  here. 


LET  THE  EARTH  NOW  PRAISE  THE  LORD.   I9 

Abram's  promised  great  Reward, 
Zion's  Helper,  Jacob's  Lord, 
Him  of  twofold  race,  behold. 
Truly  come,  as  long  foretold. 

Welcome,  O  my  Saviour,  now  ! 
Hail !  my  Portion,  Lord,  art  Thou  ! 
Here,  too,  in  my  heart  I  pray,  — 
Oh  prepare  Thyself  a  way. 

Enter,  King  of  glory,  in ! 
Purify  the  wastes  of  sin. 
As  Thou  hast  so  often  done : 
This  belongs  to  Thee  alone. 

As  Thy  coming  was  all  peace, 
Noiseless,  full  of  gentleness, 
Let  the  same  mind  dwell  in  me 
That  was  ever  found  in  Thee. 

Bruise  for  me  the  serpent's  head. 
That,  set  free  from  doubt  and  dread, 
I  may  cleave  to  Thee  in  faith, 
Safely  kept  through  life  and  death. 

And  when  Thou  dost  come  again, 
As  a  glorious  King  to  reign, 
I  with  joy  may  see  Thy  face. 
Freely  ransomed  by  Thy  grace. 


20  THE  ADVENT. 


LORD,  HOW  SHALL  I  BE  MEETING? 

(  tVi'e  soil  t'c/i  Dich  emffangen  f) 


By  Paul  Gerhardt,  the  prince  of  Gennan  hymnists,  1653.  Translated,  in  the 
spirit  and  metre  of  the  original,  by  Dr.  James  W.  Alexander  (died  1859),  and  first 
published  in  Schaff's  Deutsche  Kirchenfreund,  Mercersburg,  for  1850  (p.  176). 
Another  version  by  Miss  Catherine  Winkworth,  1855  :  "  How  shedl  I  meet  Thee? 
how,  my  heart?" 


T    ORD,  how  shall  I  be  meeting, 
^~^     And  how  shall  I  embrace 
Thee,  earth's  desire,  when  greeting 

My  soul's  adorning  grace  ? 
O  Jesus,  Jesus  !  holding 

Thyself  the  flame  in  sight. 
Show  how.  Thy  beam  beholding, 

I  may  my  Lord  delight. 

Fresh  palms  Thy  Zion  streweth, 

And  branches  ever  green. 
And  psalms  my  voice  reneweth. 

To  raise  my  joy  serene. 
Such  budding  tribute  paying, 

My  heart  shall  hymn  Thy  praise, 
Thy  holy  name  obeying 

With  chiefest  of  my  lays. 


D 


LORD,    HOW    SHALL    I    BE    MEETING?  21 

What  hast  Thou  left  ungranted, 

To  give  me  glad  relief? 
When  soul  and  body  panted 

In  utmost  depth  of  grief, 
In  hour  of  degradation, 

Thy  peace  and  pity  smiled, 
Then  Thou,  my  soul's  salvation, 

Didst  happy  make  Thy  child. 

I  lay  in  slavish  mourning. 

Thou  cam'st  to  set  me  free ; 
I  sank  in  shame  and  scorning, 

Thou  cam'st  to  comfort  me. 
Thou  raisedst  me  to  glory. 

Bestowing  highest  good. 
Not  frail  and  transitory. 

Like  wealth  on  earth  pursued. 

Naught,  naught  did  send  Thee  speeding 

From  mansions  of  the  skies, 
But  love  all  love  exceeding. 

Love  able  to  comprise 
A  world  in  pangs  despairing, 

Weighed  down  with  thousand  woes 
That  tongue  would  fail  declaring. 

But  love  doth  fast  inclose. 

Grave  on  your  heart  this  writing, 
O  band  of  mourners  poor  ! 


ft- ±=fl 


22  THE    ADVENT. 

With  pains  and  sorrows  fighting, 
That  throng  you  more  and  more ; 

Dismiss  the  fear  that  sickens, 
For  lo  !  beside  you  see 

Him  who  your  heart  now  quickens 
And  comforts  ;  here  is  He. 

Why  should  you  be  detained 

In  trouble  day  and  night, 
As  though  He  must  be  gained 

By  arm  of  human  might? 
He  comes.  He  comes,  all  willing, 

All  full  of  grace  and  love, 
Those  woes  and  troubles  stilling. 

Well  known  to  Him  above. 

Nor  need  ye  tremble  over 

The  guilt  that  gives  distress. 
No  !   Jesus  all  will  cover 

With  grace  and  righteousness  : 
He  comes.  He  comes,  procuring 

The  peace  of  sin  forgiven, 
To  all  God's  sons  securing 

Their  part  and  lot  in  heaven. 

Why  heed  ye,  then,  the  crying 
Of  crafty  foemen  nigh? 

Your  Lord  shall  send  them  flying 
In  twinkling  of  an  eye. 


LORD,  HOW  SHALL  I  BE  MEETING?      23 

He  comes,  He  comes,  for  ever 

A  King ;  and  earth's  fell  band 
Shall  prove  in  the  endeavor 

Too  feeble  to  withstand. 

He  comes  to  judge  the  nations, 

Wroth  if  they  wrathful  prove, 
With  sweet  illuminations 

To  those  who  seek  and  love. 
Come,  come,  O  Sun  eternal ! 

And  all  our  souls  convey 
To  endless  bliss  supernal, 

In  yonder  court  of  day. 


D 


24  THE   ADVENT. 


PLUNGED   IN  A  GULF   OF   DARK 
DESPAIR. 


IsA\c  Watts,  1709.  The  fifth  stanza  is  among  the  most  famih'ar  poetic  descrip- 
tions of  the  Saviour's  love.  Roundell  Palmer,  in  his  Book  of  Praise,  omits  the  fourth 
stanza.    The  hymn  might  as  well  be  classed  with  the  Passion  hymns. 


5 


TDLUNGED  in  a  gulf  of  dark  despair, 

We  wretched  sinners  lay, 
Without  one  cheerful  beam  of  hope, 
Or  spark  of  glimmering  day. 

With  pitying  eyes,  the  Prince  of  Grace 

Beheld  our  helpless  grief; 
He  saw,  and  —  oh,  amazing  love  !  — 

He  ran  to  our  relief. 

Down  from  the  shining  seats  above. 

With  joyful  haste  He  fled, 
Entered  the  grave  in  mortal  flesh. 

And  dwelt  among  the  dead. 

He  spoiled  the  powers  of  darkness  thus, 

And  brake  our  iron  chains  ; 
Jesus  has  freed  our  captive  souls 

From  everlasting  pains. 


MESSIAH,    AT    THY    GLAD    APPROACH.  25 

Oh  !  for  this  love  let  rocks  and  hills 

Their  lasting  silence  break, 
And  all  harmonious  human  tongues 

The  Saviour's  praises  speak. 

Angels,  assist  our  mighty  joys  ; 

Strike  all  your  harps  of  gold  ! 
But,  when  you  raise  your  highest  notes, 

His  love  can  ne'er  be  told. 


MESSIAH,  AT  THY  GLAD   APPROACH. 


Michael  Bruce,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  short-lived  poets,  bom  1746;  edu- 
cated at  the  University  of  Edinburgh  ;  died,  of  consumption,  in  1767,  in  his  twenty-first 
year.  Some  of  his  poems  are  erroneously  ascribed  to  his  friend  John  Logan.  See 
Rogers's  Lyr.  Brit.,  1867,  p.  97. 


■jV/TESSIAH,  at  Thy  glad  approach 

The  howling  winds  are  still ; 
Thy  praises  fill  the  lonely  waste. 
And  breathe  from  every  hill. 

The  hidden  fountains  at  Thy  call 
Their  sacred  stores  unlock  ; 

Loud  in  the  desert,  sudden  streams 
Burst  living  from  the  rock. 


:z:) 


26  THE    ADVENT. 

The  incense  of  the  spring  ascends 
Upon  the  morning  gale  ; 

Red  o'er  the  hill  the  roses  bloom, 
The  lilies  in  the  vale. 

Renewed,  the  earth  a  robe  of  light, 
A  robe  of  beauty,  wears  ; 

And  in  new  heavens  a  brighter  sun 
Leads  on  the  promised  years. 

The  kingdom  of  Messiah  come, 
Appointed  times  disclose ; 

And  fairer  in  Emmanuel's  land 
The  new  creation  glows. 

Let  Israel  to  the  Prince  of  Peace 
The  loud  hosanna  sing ! 

With  hallelujahs  and  with  hymns 
O  Zion,  hail  thy  King  I 


LO,  HE  COMES  !  LET  ALL  ADORE  HIM  !     2"] 


LO,   HE   COMES!    LET  ALL  ADORE 
HIM! 


Isa.  xl.  3-5.  Thomas  Kelly,  born  in  Dublin,  1769 ;  educated  for  the  law ; 
ordained  1792;  left  the  Established  Church;  labored,  for  the  London  Missionary 
Society,  with  the  brothers  Haldane ;  died  1855.  Author  of  765  hymns,  some  of  which 
are  among  the  best  in  the  English  language. 


T    O,  He  comes  !  let  all  adore  Him  ! 
-*— ^     'Tis  the  God  of  grace  and  truth  I 
Go  !  prepare  the  way  before  Him, 

Make  the  rugged  places  smooth  ! 
Lo,  He  comes,  the  mighty  Lord  I 
Great  His  work,  and  His  reward. 

Let  the  valleys  all  be  raised  ; 

Go,  and  make  the  crooked  straight; 
Let  the  mountains  be  abased  ; 

Let  all  nature  change  its  state ; 
Through  the  desert  mark  a  road, 
Make  a  highway  for  our  God. 

Through  the  desert  God  is  going, 
Through  the  desert  waste  and  wild, 

Where  no  goodly  plant  is  growing. 
Where  no  verdure  ever  smiled  ; 

But  the  desert  shall  be  glad, 

And  with  verdure  soon  be  clad. 


fl 


28  THE    ADVENT. 

Where  the  thorn  and  brier  flourished, 
Trees  shall  there  be  seen  to  grow, 

Planted  by  the  Lord  and  nourished. 
Stately,  fair,  and  fruitful  too; 

They  shall  rise  on  every  side. 

They  shall  spread  their  branches  wide. 

From  the  hills  and  lofty  mountains 
Rivers  shall  be  seen  to  flow  ; 

There  the  Lord  will  open  fountains, 
Thence  supply  the  plains  below ; 

As  He  passes,  every  land 

Shall  confess  His  powerful  hand. 


WATCHMAN!   TELL  US  OF  THE  NIGHT. 


Sir  John  Bowring,  LL.D.,  bom  at  Exeter,  1792;  a  distinguished  diplomatist  and 
colonial  governor  in  China,  now  living  in  retirement ;  author  of  several  important 
works  of  travel  and  on  politics,  and  of  a  volume  of  excellent  hymns  published  in  1S25. 
This  hymn  is  based  on  Isa.  xxi.  11 :  "  Watchman,  what  of  the  night?" 


■Y\7"ATCHMAN  !  tell  us  of  the  night, 

^  '     What  its  signs  of  promise  are. 
Traveller  !  o'er  yon  mountain's  height, 
See  that  glory-beaming  star. 

Watchman  !  does  its  beauteous  ray 
Aught  of  hope  or  joy  foretell  ? 
Traveller  !  yes  ;  it  brings  the  day, 
Promised  day  of  Israel. 


lZ) 


WATCHMAN  !    TELL    US    OF    THE    NIGHT.  29 

Watchman  !  tell  us  of  the  night ; 
Higher  yet  that  star  ascends. 
Traveller  !  blessedness  and  light, 
Peace  and  truth,  its  course  portends. 

Watchman  !  will  its  beams  alone 
Gild  the  spot  that  gave  them  birth? 
Traveller  !  ages  are  its  own  ; 
See,  it  bursts  o'er  all  the  earth ! 

Watchman  !  tell  us  of  the  night, 
For  the  morning  seems  to  dawn. 
Traveller  !  darkness  takes  its  flight ; 
Doubt  and  terror  are  withdrawn. 

Watchman  !  let  thy  wanderings  cease  ; 
Hie  thee  to  thy  quiet  home  : 
Traveller  !  lo,  the  Prince  of  Peace, 
Lo,  the  Son  of  God,  is  come  I 


5 


D 


30  THE   ADVENT. 


WHEN  JESUS  CAME  TO  EARTH  OF  OLD. 


Mrs.  Cecil  Frances  Alexander,  a  highly  accomplished  authoress,  daughter  of 
Major  Humphreys  of  Ireland ;  married,  in  1850,  to  the  Very  Rev.  WilHam  Alexander, 
Dean  of  Emly.  Her  Hymns  for  Little  Children  have  an  immense  circulation  in 
England  (two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  copies  were  disposed  of  before  1S67).  She 
lias  published  several  volumes  of  poems,  and  contributed  to  the  Lyra  Anglicana, 
and  various  magazines. 


"VT  JHEN  Jesus  came  to  earth  of  old, 

'  '     He  came  in  weakness  and  in  woe ; 
He  wore  no  form  of  angel  mould, 
But  took  our  nature,  poor  and  low. 

But,  when  He  cometh  back  once  more, 
There  shall  be  set  the  great  white  throne, 
And  earth  and  heaven  shall  flee  before 
The  face  of  Him  that  sits  thereon. 

O  Son  of  God,  in  glory  crowned. 
The  Judge  ordained  of  quick  and  dead ! 
O  Son  of  Man,  so  pitying  found 
For  all  the  tears  Thy  people  shed  ! 

Be  with  us  in  this  darkened  place,  — 
This  weary,  restless,  dangerous  night; 
And  teach,  oh  teach  us,  by  Thy  grace, 
To  struggle  onward  into  light ! 


ft 


fc 


ZION,    AT    THY    SHINING    GATES.  3 1 

And  since,  in  God's  recording  book, 
Our  sins  are  written,  every  one, — 
The  crime,  the  wrath,  the  wandering  look, 
The  good  we  knew,  and  left  undone. 

Lord,  ere  the  last  dread  trump  be  heard, 
And  ere  before  Thy  face  we  stand, 
Look  Thou  on  each  accusing  word. 
And  blot  it  with  Thy  bleeding  hand. 

And  by  the  love  that  brought  Thee  here, 
And  by  the  cross,  and  by  the  grave, 
Give  perfect  love  for  conscious  fear, 
And  in  the  day  of  judgment  save. 

And  lead  us  on  while  here  we  stray. 
And  make  us  love  our  heavenly  home, 
Till  from  our  hearts  we  love  to  say, 
"Even  so.  Lord  Jesus,  quickly  come." 


ZION,   AT  THY  SHINING    GATES. 


Benjamin  Hall  Kennedy,  D.D  ,  bom  near  Birmingham,  1804;  educated  at 
Cambridge  ;  since  1865,  Rector  of  West  Felton,  England. 


^lON,  at  thy  shining  gates, 
^-^  Lo,  the  King  of  glory  waits  ! 
Haste  thy  Monarch's  pomp  to  greet, 
Strew  thy  palms  before  His  feet. 


U 


c 


& 


32  THE    ADVENT. 

Christ,  for  Thee  their  triple  light 
Faith  and  Hope  and  Love  unite ; 
This  the  beacon  we  display, 
To  proclaim  Thine  Advent  day. 

Come,  and  give  us  peace  within ; 
Loose  us  from  the  bands  of  sin ; 
Take  away  the  galling  weight 
Laid  on  us  by  Satan's  hate. 

Give  us  grace  Thy  yoke  to  wear ; 
Give  us  strength  Thy  cross  to  bear ; 
Make  us  Thine  in  deed  and  word, 
Thine  in  heart  and  life,  O  Lord  ! 

Kill  in  us  the  carnal  root. 
That  the  Spirit  may  bear  fruit ; 
Plant  in  us  Thy  lowly  mind ; 
Keep  us  faithful,  loving,  kind. 

So,  when  Thou  shalt  come  again, 
Judge  of  angels  and  of  men. 
We,  with  all  Thy  saints,  shall  sing 
Hallelujahs  to  our  King. 


c 

V 

HE   COMES,   NO   ROYAL  VESTURE  WEARING.       33 


HE  COMES,   NO   ROYAL  VESTURE 
WEARING. 


(Z?e/«  Konig  kommt  in  niedern  HiillenJ) 


By  Frikdrich  Ruckert,  one  of  the  greatest  German  poets  of  the  19th  century, 
died  1867.  A  lyric  of  high  order,  first  published  1824 ;  admirably  translated,  for  this 
Collection,  by  Professor  Thomas  C.  Porter,  of  Lafayette  College,  Easton,  Pa.,  April  s, 
1868.  (The  original  in  Schaff's  G.  Hymn  Book,  No.  81.)  Based  upon  Matt.  xxi. 
i-ii,  which  is  the  Gospel  lesson  for  the  first  Sunday  in  Advent  (and  also  a  proper 
lesson  for  Palm  Sunday). 


T  TE  comes,  no  royal  vesture  wearing. 

An  humble  beast  the  Monarch  bearing ; 

Receive  thy  King,  Jerusalem  I 
Go  forth  with  palms,  His  triumph  showing. 
With  branches  green  the  pathway  strewing, 

And  shout  hosannas  to  His  name. 

O  Sovereign,  by  no  host  attended ! 
Strong  Champion,  by  no  spear  defended ! 

O  Prince  of  Peace,  and  David's  Son  !  — 
Thy  throne,  from  whose  approach  for  ever 
The  kings  of  earth  Thy  step  would  sever, 

Is  by  Thee,  without  battle,  won. 

Unto  the  empire  Thou  hast  founded, 
Though  not  of  earth,  nor  by  earth  bounded. 
All  earthl}'^  realms  shall  subject  be  : 
3 


n  ^ 


34  THE    ADVENT. 

Forth  into  every  land  and  nation, 
Thy  servants,  armed  with  Thy  salvation, 
March  to  prepare  a  way  for  Thee. 

And  at  Thy  coming,  clothed  with  power. 
The  sullen  storm  forgets  to  lower, 

And  waves  grow  calm  beneath  Thy  tread ; 
The  bonds,  by  man's  rebellion  blighted. 
In  a  new  covenant  are  united. 

And  sin  and  death  in  fetters  led. 

O  Lord  of  grace  and  truth  unending, 

And  love  all  reach  of  thought  transcending. 

Revisit  us,  so  sorely  tried  ! 
Thine  Advent  once  again  is  needed. 
To  form  anew  Thy  peace,  unheeded 

By  worldly  haughtiness  and  pride. 

Oh,  let  Thy  light,  which  ne'er  shall  vanish. 
From  earth  the  power  of  darkness  banish  ! 

The  lurid  flames  of  discord  quell ; 
That  we,  the  thrones  and  people  loyal. 
As  brethren  'neath  Thy  sceptre  royal. 

In  Thy  great  Father's  house  may  dwell. 


THE    CHURCH    HAS    WAITED    LONG.  35 


THE  CHURCH  HAS  WAITED  LONG. 


By  HoRATius  BoNAR,  D.D.,  of  Kelso.     Rev.  xxii.  20.     From  his  Hymns  of 
Faith  and  Hope,  First  Series,  1856,  under  the  title  "Advent." 


'T^HE  Church  has  waited  long, 
-^     Her  absent  Lord  to  see  ; 
And  still  in  loneliness  she  waits, 

A  friendless  stranger  she. 

Age  after  age  has  gone, 

Sun  after  sun  has  set, 
And  still,  in  weeds  of  widowhood, 

She  weeps,  a  mourner  yet. 

Come,  then,  Lord  Jesus,  come  I 

Saint  after  saint  on  earth 

Has  lived  and  loved  and  died ; 
And,  as  they  left  us  one  by  one, 

We  laid  them  side  by  side. 

We  laid  them  down  to  sleep, 

But  not  in  hope  forlorn  ; 
We  laid  them  but  to  ripen  there, 

Till  the  last  glorious  morn. 

Come,  then.  Lord  Jesus,  come  ! 

The  serpent's  brood  increase. 
The  powers  of  hell  grow  bold. 


c 


36  THE    ADVENT. 

The  conflict  thickens,  faith  is  low, 

And  love  is  waxing  cold. 

How  long,  O  Lord  our  God  ! 

Holy  and  true  and  good, 
Wilt  Thou  not  judge  thy  suffering  Church, 

Her  sighs  and  tears  and  blood? 

Come,  then,  Lord  Jesus,  come  ! 

We  long  to  hear  Thy  voice. 

To  see  Thee  face  to  face, 
To  share  Thy  crown  and  glory  then. 

As  now  we  share  Thy  grace. 

Should  not  the  loving  bride 

Her  absent  bridegroom  mourn  ? 
Should  she  not  wear  the  signs  of  grief 

Until  her  Lord  return? 

Come,  then.  Lord  Jesus,  come  ! 

The  whole  creation  groans, 

And  waits  to  hear  that  voice. 
That  shall  restore  her  comeliness. 

And  make  her  wastes  rejoice. 

Come,  Lord,  and  wipe  away 

The  curse,  the  sin,  the  stain, 
And  make  this  blighted  world  of  ours 

Thine  own  fair  world  again. 

Come,  then.  Lord  Jesus,  come  ! 


THE   INCARNATION. 


"  Unto  us  a  Child  is  bom,  unto  us  a  Son  is  given  :  and  the  government  i=ha11  be 
upon  his  shoulder;  and  his  name  shall  be  called  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the  Mighty 
God,  the  Everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace"  — IsA.  ix.  6. 

"  And  the  Word  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us  (and  we  beheld  his  glory, 
the  glory  as  of  the  only  begotten  of  the  Father),  full  of  grace  and  truth."  — John  i.  14. 

/^  THOU  onlj-begotten  Son  of  God,  Light  of  Light,  God 
^■^^  of  God,  very  God  of  very  God,  who,  in  the  fulness  of 
time,  wast  made  flesh,  and  didst  take  upon  Thyself  all  our  sins 
and  infirmities,  that  we  might  have  salvation  from  sin,  and  eter- 
nal life,  in  Thee  :  —  we  bless  Thee  for  Thy  holy  incarnation  ;  and 
with  the  multitude  of  angels  who  proclaimed  Thy  birth,  and  with 
Thy  people  among  all  nations,  we  unite  in  singing.  Glory  to 
God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace,  good-will  toward  men ! 
Amen. 

"  Welcome  to  our  wondering  sight. 
Eternity  shut  in  a  span  1 
Summer  in  winter  !  day  in  night  I 

Heaven  in  earth  !  and  God  in  man  I 
Great  Little  One,  whose  glorious  birth 
Lifts  earth  to  heaven,  stoops  heaven  to  earth." 

Richard  Ckashaw,  1646. 


A 


:z) 


THE    INCARNATION. 


A  GREAT  AND  MIGHTY  WONDER. 

(Meya  Kal  napu(io^ov  dav/ia.) 


From  the  Greek  of  Anatolius  (Patriarch  of  Constantinople,  and  member  of  the 
Ecumenical  Council  of  Chalcedon,  a.d.  451),  by  Dr.  J.  Mason  Neale  {Hymns  of 
the  Eastern  Church,  Lond.  1862). 


A    GREAT  and  mighty  wonder 
-^~^     The  festal  makes  secure  : 
The  Virgin  bears  the  Infant 
With  virgin-honor  pure. 

The  Word  is  made  incarnate, 
And  yet  remains  on  high  ; 

And  cherubim  sing  anthems 
To  shepherds  from  the  sky. 

And  we  with  them  triumphant, 
Repeat  the  hymn  again  : 

"  To  God  on  high  be  glory, 
And  peace  on  earth  to  men  ! " 


n 


40 


THE    INCARNATION. 

While  thus  they  praise  your  Monarch, 
Those  bright  angehc  bands, 

Rejoice,  ye  vales  and  mountains  I 
Ye  oceans,  clap  your  hands  ! 

Since  all  He  came  to  ransom, 

By  all  be  He  adored. 
The  Infant  born  in  Bethlehem, 

The  Saviour  and  the  Lord  I 

And  idol  forms  shall  perish, 

And  error  shall  decay  ; 
And  Christ  shall  wield  His  sceptre, 

Our  Lord  and  God  for  aye. 


FROM  WHERE   THE    RISING    SUN    GOES 
FORTH. 

(^A  soil's  ortus  cardine.^ 


St.  Ambrose  of  Milan,  397.  The  original,  as  given  by  Daniel  (Thes.  Hymnol., 
I.  p.  21),  has  fifty-six  lines,  but  only  a  part  of  it  (vers.  4,  s,  6)  has  passed  into  ecclesias- 
tical use.  The  beginning  is  borrowed  fi-oin  Ps.  cxii.  3:  "A  solis  ortu  usque  ad  occa- 
suni  laudabile  nomen." 


T^ROM  where  the  rising  sun  goes  forth 
-'-      To  where  he  spans  the  utmost  earth 
Proclaim  we  Christ  our  King,  this  morn 
Of  Mary  Virgin-mother  born  : 


D 


FROM  WHERE  THE  RISING  SUN  GOES  FORTH.       4! 

All  climes  unite  in  common  voice ; 
Judea,  Rome,  and  Greece  rejoice ; 
Thrace,  Egypt,  Persia,  Scythia,  now 
To  one  sole  King's  dominion  bow. 

All,  all,  confess  your  Lord  and  King; 
Redeemed  and  lost.  His  praises  sing ; 
Health,  sickness,  life,  and  death  adore ; 
All  live  in  Him,  they  die  no  more. 

His  beauteous  portal,  full  of  grace, 
Is  hallowed  for  the  King  to  pass ; 
The  King  doth  pass :  the  folded  door 
Abideth  folded  as  before.' 

Son  of  the  Father's  Might  Divine, 
Proceeding  from  His  Virgin-shrine, 
Maker,  Redeemer,  Bridegroom,  He 
The  Giant  of  His  Church  shall  be.^ 


1  An  allusion  to  the  porta  clausa,  Ezek.  xliv.  1-3,  which  was 
understood  of  the  womb  of  the  Virgin.  This  is  one  of  the  earliest 
testimonies  of  the  belief  in  the  perpetual  virginity  of  Mary,  which 
subsequently  became  a  dogma  of  the  Greek  and  Roman-Catholic 
Churches,  and  is  held  also  by  many  Protestant  divines,  although 
it  cannot  be  proved  from  the  New  Testaments 

2  Suce  gigas  ecclesicB  refers  to  the  double  nature  of  Christ,  in 
allusion  to  the  mystical  interpretation  of  the  giants.  Gen.  vi.  4. 
Comp.  gemtnce  gigas  substa}tttcB,  in  Ambrose's  "  Veni  Redemptor 
gentium,"  line  15  (see  p.  lo'l. 


tJ 


D 


n  ^ 


42  THE    INCARNATION. 

Of  Mother-maid  the  light  and  joy, 
Of  all  believers  hope  most  high, 
He  the  dark  cup  of  death  shall  drain 
Ere  He  unloose  our  guilty  chain. 

Fair  Stone,  cut  out  from  mountain-height, 
Filling  the  world  with  grace  and  light. 
Whom,  by  no  hand  of  mortal  hewn, 
The  ancient  sages  had  foreshown  :  ^ 

Tis  done,  what  herald-angel  said, 
He,  the  True  Word,  true  flesh  is  made, 
A  Virgin-birth  of  Virgin-womb, 
Virgin  of  virgins,  Christ  is  come. 

The  skies  have  shed  the  dew  from  heaven, 
The  outpouring  clouds  the  Just  One  given, 
Earth's  open  lap  receives  the  birth. 
And  brincrs  the  Lord  the  Saviour  forth. 


&" 


Oh  !  'twas  a  wondrous  travail  there 
When  Him,  the  Christ,  the  Virgin  bare, 
So  bare  the  birth,  the  Offspring  pure. 
As  Ever-virgin  to  endure. 

Creator  He  of  all  the  race. 

For  whom  creation  hath  no  place. 

Hath  found,  chaste  Mother,  where  to  dwell, 

Hath  shrined  Him  in  thy  sacred  cell : 

1  Dan.    ii.  34;    Isa.  xxviii.  16;    Eph.  ii.  20;    1    Cor.  iii.   Ii; 
I  Pet.  ii.  4,  6,  7. 


OF    THE    father's    LOVE    BEGOTTEN.  43 

Whom  Sire  most  High,  when  time  was  not, 
God  Very  God  of  God  begot, 
The  bosom  chaste  of  Mother  mild 
In  time  doth  bear  a  new-born  Child. 


OF  THE  FATHER'S  LOVE  BEGOTTEN. 

(^Corde  natus  ex  Parentis^ 


From  the  Latin  of  Clemens  Aurelius  Prudentius,  of  Spain,  died  405.  Da- 
niel, Thesaurus,  I.  122;  Wackernagel,  I.  36;  an  English  version  in  The  Hymnal 
Noted,  No.  32 ;  Hymns  A  ncieni  and  Modern,  No.  46. 


/^F  the  Father's  love  begotten, 
^^     Ere  the  worlds  began  to  be, 
He  is  Alpha  and  Omega, 

He  the  source,  the  ending  He, 
Of  the  things  that  are,  that  have  been, 

And  that  future  years  shall  see, 
Evermore  and  evermore  ! 

He  is  here,  whom  seers  in  old  time 
Chanted  of,  while  ages  ran  ; 

Whom  the  voices  of  the  Prophets 
Promised  since  the  world  began  : 

Then  foretold,  now  manifested. 
To  receive  the  praise  of  man, 
Evermore  and  evermore  ! 


tr 


C 


44  THE    INCARNATION. 

Oh  that  ever-blessed  birthday, 
When  the  Virgin,  full  of  grace, 

Of  the  Holy  Ghost  incarnate 
Bare  the  Saviour  of  our  race ; 

And  that  Child,  the  world's  Redeemer, 
First  displayed  His  Sacred  Face, 
Evermore  and  evermore  ! 

Praise  Him,  O  ye  heavens  of  heavens  ! 

Praise  Him,  angels  in  the  height ! 
Every  power  and  every  virtue 

Sing  the  praise  of  God  aright ! 
Let  no  tongue  of  man  be  silent. 

Let  each  heart  and  voice  unite, 
Evermore  and  evermore  ! 

Thee  let  age,  and  Thee  let  manhood. 
Thee  let  choirs  of  infants  sing ; 

Thee  the  matrons  and  the  virgins, 
And  the  children  answering  : 

Let  their  modest  song  re-echo. 
And  their  heart  its  praises  bring. 
Evermore  and  evermore  ! 

Laud  and  honor  to  the  Father  ! 

Laud  and  honor  to  the  Son  ! 
Laud  and  honor  to  the  Spirit ! 

Ever  Three  and  ever  One  : 


Z) 


flo 


FROM    LANDS    THAT    SEE    THE    SUN   ARISE.        45 

Consubstantial,  co-eternal, 
While  unending  ages  run, 
Evermore  and  evermore  I 


FROM  LANDS  THAT  SEE  THE  SUN. 

(^A  salts  ortus  cardine.) 


From  the  Latin  of  Ccelius  Sedulius,  a  native  of  Scotland  or  Ireland,  and  pres- 
byter in  the  fifth  century.  This  hymn  is  found  in  all  the  Breviaries.  The  first  stanza 
is  literally  borrowed  fi-om  a  Nativity  hymn  of  St.  Ambrose  (p.  40).  See  the  Latin  in 
Daniel,  Thesaurus,  I.  p.  143. 


L^ROM  lands  that  see  the  sun  arise, 

To  earth's  remotest  boundaries, 
The  Virgin-born  to-day  we  sing, 
The  Son  of  Mary,  Christ  the  King. 

Blest  Author  of  this  earthly  frame, 
To  take  a  servant's  form  He  came, 
That,  liberating  flesh  by  flesh. 
Whom  He  had  made  might  live  afresh. 

In  that  chaste  parent's  holy  womb 
Celestial  grace  hath  found  its  home  : 
And  she,  as  earthly  bride  unknown. 
Yet  calls  that  Offspring  blest  her  own. 


46  THE    INCARNATION. 

The  mansion  of  the  modest  breast 
Becomes  a  shrine  where  God  shall  rest : 
The  pure  and  undefiled  one 
Conceived  in  her  womb  the  Son. 

That  Son,  that  Royal  Son,  she  bore. 
Whom  Gabriel's  voice  had  told  afore  : 
Whom,  in  His  Mother  yet  concealed, 
The  Infant  Baptist  had  revealed. 

The  manger  and  the  straw  He  bore, 
The  cradle  did  He  not  abhor : 
By  milk  in  infant  portions  fed. 
Who  gives  e'en  fowls  their  daily  bread. 

The  heavenly  chorus  filled  the  sky, 
The  angels  sang  to  God  on  high. 
What  time  to  shepherds,  watching  lone. 
They  made  Creation's  Shepherd  known. 

For  that  Thine  Advent  glory  be, 
O  Jesu,  Virgin-born,  to  Thee  ! 
With  Father,  and  with  Holy  Ghost, 
From  men  and  from  the  heavenly  host. 


TO-DAY    IN    BETHLEHEM    HEAR    T.  47 

TO-DAY   IN   BETHLEHEM   HEAR   I. 


From  the  Greek  of  John  of  Damascus,  died  754. 


n^O-DAY  in  Bethlehem  hear  I 
Sweet  angel  voices  singing  : 
All  glory  be  to  God  on  high, 

Who  peace  to  earth  is  bringing. 
The  Virgin  Mary  holdeth  more 

Than  highest  heaven  most  holy  : 
Light  shines  on  what  was  dark  before, 

And  lifteth  up  the  lowly. 

God  wills  that  peace  should  be  in  earth, 

And  holy  exultation : 
Sweet  Babe,  I  greet  Thy  spotless  birth 

And  wondrous  Incarnation. 
To-day  in  Bethlehem  hear  I 

Even  the  lowly  singing  : 
With  angel-words  they  pierce  the  sky ; 

All  earth  with  joy  is  ringing. 


D 


48  THE  INCARNATION. 


ALL  HAIL,  THOU  NIGHT,  THAN  DAY 
MORE  BRIGHT  I 

(O  nox  vel  medio  splendidior  die^ 


From  the  Amiens  Breviary,  translated  by  W.  J.  Blew,  Church  Hymn  and  Tune 
Book,  Lond.  1855. 


A  LL  hail,  thou  night,  than  day  more  bright, 
-^-^     Through  whose  mysterious  shade, 
In  wondrous  birth,  arose  on  earth. 

From  bosom  of  pure  Maid, 
The  Sun  new-born,  a  Star  of  morn. 
Filling  the  world  with  light ! 

He  who  alone,  from  heaven's  higli  throne, 

Rules  all,  and  doth  restore 
To  God's  embrace  man's  fallen  race, 

Lies  on  a  cottage  floor. 
Like  Him  that  we,  save  poverty, 

Have  nought  to  call  our  own. 

While  o'er  their  sheep  close  watch  they  keep, 

Those  shepherds  first  receive 
The  heavenly  call,  that  doth  to  all 

Great  joy  and  gladness  give,  — 
The  call  from  heaven,  to  watchmen  given 

That  wake  and  never  sleep. 


COME    HITHER,    YE   FAITHFUL.  49 


COME   HITHER,   YE  FAITHFUL. 

(Adeste  fideles.') 


From  a  Latin  hymn  of  uncertain  date.    Another  translation  in  the  Hymnal  Noted: 
"Be  present,  ye  faithful,  joyful  and  triumphant." 


/^OME  hither,  ye  faithful ; 
^~^     Triumphantly  sing ; 
Come,  see  in  the  manger 

Our  Saviour  and  King  ! 
To  Bethlehem  hasten, 

With  joyful  accord ! 
Oh,  come  ye,  come  hither. 

To  worship  the  Lord  ! 

True  Son  of  the  Father, 
He  comes  from  the  skies ; 

To  be  born  of  a  Virgin 
He  doth  not  despise. 

To  Bethlehem  hasten,  &c. 

Hark,  hark  to  the  angels  ! 

All  singing  in  heaven  : 
"To  God  in  the  highest 

All  glory  be  given  !  " 
To  Bethlehem  hasten,  &c. 
4 


c& 


13 


50  THE    INCARNATION. 

To  Thee,  then,  O  Jesus  ! 

This  day  of  Thy  birth, 
Be  glory  and  honor 

Through  heaven  and  earth  ! 
True  Godhead  Incarnate  ! 

Omnipotent  Word  ! 
Oh,  come,  let  us  hasten 

To  worship  the  Lord  ! 


A  CHILD   IS   BORN   IN   BETHLEHEM. 

{Ptier  tiatus  /«  Bethlehem.^ 


A  ]uyun^  Christinas  hymn  of  the  t4th  century,  which  continued  in  use,  in  the 
Lutheran  churches  of  Germany,  welhiigh  to  this  day.  EngHsh  versions  by  R.  F.  LiT- 
TLEDALE,  Mrs.  Charles,  and  others.  The  Latin  in  Daniel,  I.  334  ;  Trench,  p.  97 ; 
and  Wackrrnagel  {Vas  Deutsche  Kirchenlied,  vol.  i.  p.  198-200),  who  gives  ten 
forms  of  this  hymn. 


A    CHILD  is  born  in  Bethlehem  ; 
•^  Rejoice  and  sing,  Jerusalem. 

Within  a  manger  He  doth  lie. 
Whose  throne  is  set  above  the  sky. 
Hallelujah  !  hallelujah  ! 

The  wise  men  came,  led  by  the  star ; 
Gold,  myrrh,  and  incense  brought  from  far. 


A    CHILD    IS    BORN    IN    BETHLEHEM.  5I 

The  OX  and  ass  beheld  that  sight ; 
The  creature  knew  the  Lord  of  might.^ 
Hallelujah !  hallelujah  ! 

His  mother  is  the  Virgin  mild, 
And  He  the  Father's  onl}^  child. 
The  serpent's  wound  He  beareth  not, 
Yet  takes  our  blood,  and  shares  our  lot. 
Hallelujah !  hallelujah  ! 

Our  human  flesh  He  enters  in, 
But  free  from  every  stain  of  sin. 
To  fallen  man  himself  He  bowed, 
That  He  might  lift  us  up  to  God. 
Hallelujah !  hallelujah ! 

On  this  most  blessed  jubilee, 
All  glory  be,  O  God  !  to  Thee. 
O  Holy  Three,  we  Thee  adore. 
This  day,  henceforth,  for  evermore. 
Hallelujah  !   hallelujah  ! 


1  "  Cognovit  bos  et  asinus 
Quod  puer  erat  Dominus." 

The  mediseval  legend  of  the  ox  and  ass  recognizing  and  wor- 
shipping the  Lord  whom  the  Jews  ignored  and  rejected,  figures 
prominently  in  Catholic  pictures  of  the  holy  family,  and  rests 
upon  a  fanciful  interpretation  of  Isa.  i.  3  ("  Cognovit  bos  pos- 
sessorem  suum,  et  asinus  pr^sepe  domini  sui"),  and  Hab.  iii.  2 
("In  medio  duorum  animalium  innotesceris"),  which  was  under- 
stood as  a  prophetic  allusion  to  the  manger  of  Bethlehem. 


52  THE    INCARNATION. 

THERE  COMES  A  GALLEY  LADEN. 

(^5  komvit  ein  Schiff geladeti.') 


From  the  German  of  John  Taui.er,  a  celebrated  mystic  divine  ard  revival 
preacher,  died  1361.  See  the  original  in  Wackernagel's  Deutsches  Kirche7ilied  von 
der  altesten  Zeit,  &c.,  Leipzig,  1867,  vol.  ii.  pp.  302,  303  (three  forms).  Another  trans- 
lation, by  C.  W.  Shields  ("  There  comes  a  bark  full  laden"),  in  Sacred  Lyrics  frorn 
the  German,  Phila.,  p.  109.  

npHERE  comes  a  galley  laden, 

-^     A  heavenly  freight  on  board  ; 
It  bears  God's  Son,  the  Saviour, 
The  great  Undying  Word. 

And  proudly  floats  that  galley, 

From  troubled  coast  to  coast : 
Its  sail  is  love  and  mercy ; 

Its  mast,  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Now  earth  hath  caught  the  anchor, 
The  ship  hath  touched  the  strand ; 

God's  Word,  in  fleshly  garment, — 
The  Son,  —  steps  out  on  land. 

Thou  Bethlehem  the  lowly 

Receiv'st  Him  in  thy  stall ; 
Thou  giv'st  Him  rest  and  shelter, 

Who  comes  to  save  us  all. 


c 


ft 


ALL,    PRAISE    TO    THEE,    ETERNAL    LORD  !         53 

Oh !  haste,  my  brothers,  quickly 

To  kiss  this  little  Child, 
Who  dies  a  glorious  Martyr 

For  souls  with  sin  defiled. 

And  he  who  dies  with  Jesus, 

With  Jesus  he  shall  rise, 
And  love  eternal  waft  him 

With  Christ  beyond  the  skies. 


ALL  PRAISE  TO  THEE,  ETERNAL 
LORD! 

(^Grates  nunc  omnes  reddamus^ 


On  the  basis  of  Luther's  hymn,  Gelobei  seist  Du,  Jesu  Christ,  1523,  wliich  is 
itself  freely  reproduced  and  enlarged  from  the  short  sequence  De  Nativitate  Do- 
mhii,  by  Notker  of  St.  Gall  in  the  ninth  century.  (Comp.  Wackermagel's  Khch- 
enlied,  L  69,  who  attributes  the  sequence  to  Gregory  the  Great,  died  604 ;  Daniel's 
Thes.,  XL  s;  Koch's  Geschichte  des  K ircheidieds,  IV.  134;  Schafk's  Deutsctus 
Gesangbuch,  No.  83;  and  A  ndover  Sabbath  H.  B.,  No.  263.) 


A  LL  praise  to  Thee,  eternal  Lord  ! 
■^^^    Clothed  in  a  garb  of  flesh  and  blood 
Choosing  a  manger  for  Thy  throne. 
While  worlds  on  worlds  are  Thine  alone. 

Once  did  the  skies  before  Thee  bow : 
A  Virgin's  arms  contain  Thee  now ; 
Angels,  who  did  in  Thee  rejoice, 
Now  hsten  for  Thine  infant  voice. 


D 


54  THE    INCARNATION. 

A  little  child,  Thou  art  our  guest, 
That  weary  ones  in  Thee  may  rest ; 
Forlorn  and  lowly  is  Thy  birth, 
That  we  may  rise  to  heaven  from  earth. 

Thou  comest  in  the  darksome  night 
To  make  us  children  of  the  light,  — 
To  make  us,  in  the  realms  divine, 
Like  Thine  own  angels  round  Thee  shine. 

All  this  for  us  Thy  love  hath  done  ; 
Bv  this  to  Thee  our  love  is  won  : 
For  this  we  tune  our  cheerful  lays. 
And  shout  our  thanks  in  ceaseless  praise. 


GOOD   NEWS   FROM   HEAVEN   THE 
ANGELS   BRING. 

(  Vbm  Himviel  hoch  da  koinm  ich  her.') 


From  Luther's  childlike  Christmas  carol,  written  for  his  children,  1535,  and 
abridged  1543  (Vo7>t  Hivimel  /cam  der  En^el  Schaar).  There  are  several  English 
translations,  one  by  two  little  blind  girls  (commencing,  "  From  highest  heaven  I  just 
came,"  and  published  in  the  Lutheran  and  Missionary,  Philad  ),  and  another  by 
Miss  C.  WiNKWORTH  ("  From  heaven  above  to  earth  I  come,"  Lyra  Germ.,  First 
Series).  The  following  is  partly  by  Arthur  Tozer  Russell,  who,  in  1851,  published 
a  volume  oi  Psaltns  and  Hymns,  consisting  chiefly  of  hymns  from  the  German. 


^~^OOT)  news  from  heaven  the  angels  bring, 
^^    Glad  tidings  to  the  earth  they  sing : 
To  us  this  day  a  child  is  given, 
To  crown  us  with  the  joy  of  heaven. 


GOOD  NEWS  FROM  HEAVEN  THE  ANGELS  BRING.  55 

This  is  the  Christ,  our  God  and  Lord, 
Who  in  all  need  shall  aid  afford  : 
He  will  Himself  our  Saviour  be, 
From  sin  and  sorrow  set  us  free. 

To  us  that  blessedness  He  brings, 
Which  from  the  Father's  bounty  springs  : 
That  in  the  heavenly  realm  we  may 
With  Him  enjoy  eternal  day. 

All  hail,  Thou  noble  Guest,  this  morn, 
Whose  love  did  not  the  sinner  scorn  ! 
In  my  distress  Thou  cam'st  to  me  : 
What  thanks  shall  I  return  to  Thee? 

Were  earth  a  thousand  times  as  fair, 
Beset  with  gold  and  jewels  rare. 
She  yet  were  far  too  poor  to  be 
A  narrow  cradle.  Lord,  for  Thee. 

Ah,  dearest  Jesus,  Holy  Child ! 
Make  Thee  a  bed,  soft,  undefiled, 
Within  my  heart,  that  it  may  be 
A  quiet  chamber  kept  for  Thee. 

Praise  God  upon  His  heavenly  throne. 
Who  gave  to  us  His  only  Son  : 
For  this  His  hosts,  on  joyful  wing, 
A  blest  New  Year  of  mercy  sing. 


ft 


c — = 


56  THE    INCARNATION. 

WE  SING  TO  THEE,  IMMANUEL. 

(  JVt'r  sing-en  Dir,  Immanuel.^ 


From  the  German  of  Paul  Gerhardt,  1656,  by  F.  E.  Cox  {Hymns  from  the 
German,  Lond.  1865).  Another  version  in  Lyra  Germanica,  I.  p.  28 :  "  Thee,  O 
Immanuel !  we  praise,  the  Prince  of  Life,  and  Fount  of  Grace."  The  hymn  has  twenty 
stanzas,  but  is  much  abridged  in  German  hymn-books  (Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  86). 


"\T  TE  sing  to  Thee,  Immanuel, 

'  '     The  Prince  of  life,  salvation's  Well, 
The  Plant  of  Heaven,  the  Star  of  morn. 
The  Lord  of  Lords,  the  Virgin-born. 

All  glory,  worship,  thanks,  and  praise, 
That  Thou  art  come  in  these  our  days  ! 
Thou  Heavenly  Guest  expected  long, 
We  hail  Thee  with  a  joyful  song. 

For  Thee,  since  first  the  world  was  made. 
Men's  hearts  have  waited,  watched,  and  prayed; 
Prophets  and  patriarchs,  year  by  year. 
Have  longed  to  see  Thy  light  appear. 

O  God  ! — they  prayed  —  from  Sion  rise, 
And  hear  Thy  captive  people's  cries ; 
At  length,  O  Lord  !  salvation  bring  : 
Then  Jacob  shall  rejoice  and  sing. 


WE    SING    TO    THEE,    IMMANUEL.  57 

Now  Thou,  by  whom  the  world  was  made, 
Art  in  Thy  manger-cradle  laid  ; 
Maker  of  all  things  great,  art  small, 
Naked  Thyself,  though  clothing  all. 

Thou,  who  both  heaven  and  earth  dost  sway. 
In  strangers'  inn  art  fain  to  stay  ; 
And  though  Thy  power  makes  angels  blest, 
Dost  seek  Thy  food  from  human  breast. 

Encouraged  thus,  our  love  grows  bold 
On  Thee  to  lay  our  steadfast  hold ; 
The  Cross  which  Thou  didst  undergo 
Has  vanquished  death  and  healed  our  woe. 

Thou  art  our  Head  :  then.  Lord,  of  Thee, 
True,  living  members  we  will  be ; 
And,  in  the  strength  Thy  grace  shall  give. 
Will  live  as  Thou  wouldst  have  us  live. 

As  each  .short  year  goes  quickly  round, 
Our  Halleluiahs  shall  resound ; 
And,  when  we  reckon  years  no  more, 
May  we  in  heaven  Thy  Name  adore ! 


IID 


58  THE    INCARNATION. 


ALL  MY  HEART  THIS   NIGHT 
REJOICES. 

(^Frohlick  soil  mein  Herze  springen.') 


Paul  Gerhardt,  1656.     Translated  by  C.  Winkworth.     The  original  has  fif- 
feen  stanzas,  but  is  abridged  in  most  German  hymn-books. 


\  LL  my  heart  this  night  rejoices, 
-^^         As  I  hear, 

Far  and  near, 
Sweetest  angel  voices : 
"Christ  is  born,"  their  choirs  are  singing. 
Till  the  air 
Everywhere 
Now  with  joy  is  ringing. 

Hark  !  a  voice  from  yonder  manger. 
Soft  and  sweet. 
Doth  entreat : 
"  Flee  from  woe  and  danger ; 
Brethren,  come  :  from  all  that  grieves  you 
You  are  freed ; 
All  you  need 
I  will  surely  give  you." 


ALL    MY    HEART    THIS    NIGHT    REJOICES.  59 

Come,  then,  let  us  hasten  yonder  ; 
Here  let  all, 
Great  and  small. 
Kneel  in  awe  and  wonder  ; 
Love  Him  who  with  love  is  yearning ; 
Hail  the  Star 
That  from  far 
Bright  with  hope  is  burning  ! 

Ye  who  pine  in  weary  sadness. 
Weep  no  more. 
For  the  door 
Now  is  found  of  gladness. 
Cling  to  Him,  for  He  will  guide  you 
Where  no  cross, 
Pain  or  loss, 
Can  again  betide  you. 

Hither  come,  ye  heavy-hearted, 
Who  for  sin. 
Deep  within. 
Long  and  sore  have  smarted  : 
For  the  poisoned  wounds  you're  feeling 
Help  is  near ; 
One  is  here 
Mighty  for  their  healing. 

Hither  come,  ye  poor  and  wretched  ; 
Know  His  will 
Is  to  fill 


6o  THE    INCARNATION. 

Every  hand  outstretched ; 
Here  are  riches  without  measure, 

Here  forget 

All  regret, 
Fill  your  hearts  with  treasure. 

Blessed  Saviour,  let  me  find  Thee  ! 
Keep  Thou  me 
Close  to  Thee, 
Cast  me  not  behind  Thee  ! 
Life  of  life,  my  heart  Thou  stillest, 
Calm  I  rest 
On  Thy  breast. 
All  this  void  Thou  fillest. 

Heedfully  my  Lord  I'll  cherish, 
Live  to  Thee, 
And  with  Thee 
Dying  shall  not  perish  ; 
But  shall  dwell  with  Thee  for  ever, 
Far  on  high, 
In  the  joy 
That  can  alter  never. 


WHILE    TO    BETHLEHEM.  6l 

WHILE  TO   BETHLEHEM. 


ViOLANTE  DO  Ceo,  a  Celebrated  Portuguese  poetess,  called  "the  Tenth  Muse  of 
Portugal;"  b.,  at  Lisbon,  1601 ;  d.,  in  a  cloister,  1693.  Translated  by  J.  Auamson, 
Lusitania  Illustrata,  1842. 

"TT  THILE  to  Bethlehem  we  are  going, 

'  '     Tell  me  now,  to  cheer  the  road, 
Tell  me  why  this  lovely  Infant 

Quitted  His  divine  abode. 

"  From  that  world  to  bring  to  this 
Peace,  which,  of  all  earthly  blisses, 

Is  the  brightest,  purest  bliss." 

Wherefore  from  His  throne  exalted 

Came  He  on  this  earth  to  dwell ; 
All  His  pomp  an  humble  manger. 

All  His  court  a  narrow  cell? 

"  From  that  world  to  bring  to  this 
Peace,  which,  of  all  earthly  blisses, 

Is  the  brightest,  purest  bliss." 

Why  did  He,  the  Lord  Eternal, 

Mortal  pilgrim  deign  to  be  ; 
He  who  fashioned  for  His  glory. 

Boundless  immortality? 

"  From  that  world  to  bring  to  this 
Peace,  which,  of  all  earthly  blisses. 

Is  the  brightest,  purest  bliss." 

Well,  then,  let  us  haste  to  Bethlehem ; 

Thither  let  us  haste  and  rest ; 
For,  of  all  Heaven's  gifts,  the  sweetest, 

Sure,  is  peace,  —  the  sweetest,  best. 


62  THE    INCARNATION. 


THIS    IS   THE   MONTH,  AND   THIS    THE 
HAPPY   MORN. 


"  On  the  Morning  of  Christ's  Nativity."  By  John  Milton,  born  i6oS,  died  1674. 
The  magnificent  Nativity  hymn  of  the  immortal  singer  of  Paradise  Lost,  wliich  fol- 
lows this,  is  too  long,  and  not  sufficiently  lyrical,  for  our  Collection. 


''  I  ^HIS  is  the  month,  and  this  the  happy  morn, 
Wherein  the  Son  of  heaven's  eternal  King, 
Of  wedded  Maid  and  Virgin  Mother  born, 
Our  great  redemption  from  above  did  bring  ; 
For  so  the  holy  sages  once  did  sing, 
That  He  our  deadly  forfeit  should  release, 
And  with  His  Father  work  us  a  perpetual  peace. 

That  glorious  form,  that  light  unsufferable, 
And  that  far-beaming  blaze  of  majesty. 
Wherewith   He   wont  at  heaven's   hi(rh   council- 

table 
To  sit  the  midst  of  Trinal  Unity, 
He  laid  aside ;  and,  here  with  us  to  be. 
Forsook  the  courts  of  everlasting  day, 
And   chose   with  us   a   darksome   house  of  mortal 

clay. 

Say,  heavenly  Muse,  shall  not  thy  sacred  vein 
Afford  a  present  to  the  Infant  God? 
Hast  thou  no  verse,  no  hymn,  or  solemn  strain, 
To  welcome  Him  to  this  His  new  abode, 


THOU    FAIREST    CHILD    DIVINE.  63 

Now  while  the  heaven  by  the  sun's  team  untrod, 
Hath  took  no  print  of  the  approaching  Hght, 
And  all  the  spangled  host  keep  watch  in  squadrons 
bright? 

See  how  from  far  upon  the  eastern  road 
The  star-led  wizards  ^  haste  with  odors  sweet : 
Oh  run,  prevent  them  with  thy  humble  ode, 
And  lay  it  lowly  at  His  blessed  feet ; 
Have  thou  the  honor  first  thy  Lord  to  greet, 
And  join  thy  voice  unto  the  angel  choir, 
From  out  His  secret  altar  touched  with  hallowed 
fire. 


THOU  FAIREST  CHILD   DIVINE. 

(Z?a  sckonstes  Gottes-Ktnd.) 


Gerhard  Tersteegen,  1731.    Translated  by  C  Winkworth  {Lyra  Germanica, 
Second  Series). 


'T^HOU  fairest  Child  Divine 
-^     In  yonder  manger  laid, 
In  whom  is  God  Himself  well  pleased, 
By  whom  were  all  things  made. 


64  THE    INCARNATION. 

On  me  art  Thou  bestowed ; 

How  can  such  wonders  be  ! 

The  dearest  that  the  Father  hath 

He  ffives  me  here  in  Thee  I 

I  was  a  foe  to  God, 

I  fought  in  Satan's  host, 
I  trifled  all  His  grace  away, 

Alas  !  my  soul  was  lost. 

Yet  God  forgets  my  sin ; 

His  heart,  with  pity  moved, 
He  gives  me.  Heavenly  Child,  in  Thee; 

Lo  !  thus  our  God  hath  loved  ! 

Once  blind  with  sin  and  self, 

Along  the  treacherous  way, 
That  ends  in  ruin  at  the  last, 

I  hastened  far  astray  ; 

Then  God  sent  down  His  Son ; 

For  with  a  love  most  deep. 
Most  undeserved,  His  heart  still  yearned 

O'er  me,  poor  wandering  sheep  ! 

God  with  His  life  of  love 
To  me  was  far  and  strange. 

My  heart  clung  only  to  the  world 
Of  sight  and  sense  and  change ; 
In  Thee,  Immanuel, 
Are  God  and  man  made  one  ; 

In  Thee  my  heart  hath  peace  with  God, 
And  union  in  the  Son. 


JOY    TO    THE    WORLD  !    THE    LORD    IS    COME.      65 

Oh  ponder  this,  my  soul : 
Our  God  hath  loved  us  thus, 

That  even  His  only  dearest  Son 
He  freely  giveth  us. 
Thou  precious  gift  of  God, 
The  pledge  and  bond  of  love, 

With  thankful  heart  I  kneel  to  take 
This  treasure  from  above. 

I  kneel  beside  Thy  couch, 

I  press  Thee  to  my  heart, 
For  Thee  I  gladly  all  forsake 

And  from  the  creature  part : 

Oh  deign  to  take  my  heart. 

And  let  Thy  heart  be  mine, 
That  all  my  love  flow  out  to  Thee 

And  lose  itself  in  Thine. 


JOY  TO  THE  WORLD!    THE  LORD  IS 
COME. 


Isaac  Watts,  1709.     Ps.  xcviii. 


TOY  to  the  world  !  the  Lord  is  come 
^    Let  earth  receive  her  King; 
Let  every  heart  prepare  Him  room, 
And  heaven  and  nature  sing. 


n^ 


66  THE    INCARNATION. 

Joy  to  the  world  !  the  Saviour  reigns  ; 

Let  men  their  songs  employ  ; 
While  fields  and  floods,  rocks,  hills,  and  plains, 

Repeat  the  sounding  joy. 

No  more  let  sin  and  sorrow  grow, 

Nor  thorns  infest  the  ground  : 
He  comes  to  make  His  blessings  flow 

Far  as  the  curse  is  found. 

He  rules  the  world  with  truth  and  grace. 

And  makes  the  nations  prove 
The  glories  of  His  righteousness. 

And  wonders  of  His  love. 


HARK,    HOW   ALL   THE  WELKIN 
RINGS  ! 


Charles  Wesley.     From  his  Hymns  and  Sacred  Poems,  1739. 


TTARK,  how  all  the  welkin  rings  ! 

Glory  to  the  King  of  kings  ! 
Peace  on  earth  and  mercy  mild, 
God  and  sinners  reconciled  ! 
Joyful,  all  ye  nations,  rise, 
Join  the  triumph  of  the  skies ; 
Universal  nature  say, 
Christ  the  Lord  is  born  to-day  ! 


VJ 


HARK,    HOW    ALL    THE    WELKIN    RINGS  !  67 

Christ,  by  highest  Heaven  adored ; 
Christ,  the  Everlasting  Lord  ; 
Late  in  time  behold  Him  come, 
Offspring  of  a  Virgin's  womb  : 
Veiled  in  flesh  the  Godhead  see ; 
Hail  the  Incarnate  Deity, 
Pleased  as  man  with  men  to  appear, 
Jesus,  our  Immanuel  here  ! 

Hail,  the  heavenly  Prince  of  Peace  ! 
Hail,  the  Son  of  Righteousness  ! 
Light  and  life  to  all  He  brings. 
Risen  with  heahng  in  His  wings. 
Mild  He  lays  His  glory  by. 
Born  that  man  no  more  may  die. 
Born  to  raise  the  sans  of  earth. 
Born  to  give  them  second  birth. 

Come,  Desire  of  nations,  come, 

Fix  in  us  Thy  humble  home  ! 

Rise,  the  Woman's  conquering  Seed, 

Bruise  in  us  the  Serpent's  head  ! 

Now  display  Thy  saving  power, 

Ruined  nature  now  restore  ; 

Now  in  mystic  union  join 

Thine  to  ours,  and  ours  to  Thine  ! 

Adam's  likeness,  Lord,  efface  ; 
Stamp  Thine  image  in  its  place ; 
Second  Adam  from  above, 
Reinstate  us  in  Thy  love  ! 


5 


68  THE    INCARNATION. 

Let  US  Thee,  though  lost,  regain, 
Thee,  the  Life,  the  Heavenly  Man 
Oh,  to  all  Thyself  impart, 
Formed  in  each  believing  heart ! 


HARK,  THE   GLAD   SOUND ! 


Philip  Doddridge,  D.D.,  died  1751. 


TTARK,  the  glad  sound !  the  Saviour  comes, 
-^  The  Saviour  promised  long  ! 

Let  every  heart  prepare  a  throne, 
And  every  voice  a  song ! 

On  Him  the  Spirit,  largely  poured, 

Exerts  its  sacred  fire  ; 
Wisdom  and  might,  and  zeal  and  love, 

His  holy  breast  inspire. 

He  comes,  the  prisoners  to  release, 

In  Satan's  bondage  held  ; 
The  gates  of  brass  before  Him  burst, 

The  iron  fetters  yield. 

He  comes,  from  thickest  films  of  vice 

To  clear  the  mental  ray. 
And  on  the  eyeballs  of  the  blind 

To  pour  celestial  day. 


OH,    HOW   WONDROUS    IS    THE    STORY  !  69 

He  comes,  the  broken  heart  to  bind, 

The  bleeding  soul  to  cure. 
And  with  the  treasure  of  His  grace 

Enrich  the  humble  poor. 

His  silver  trumpets  publish  loud 

The  jubilee  of  the  Lord  ; 
Our  debts  are  all  remitted  now, 

Our  heritage  restored. 

Our  glad  hosannas,  Prince  of  Peace, 

Thy  welcome  shall  proclaim, 
And  heaven's  eternal  arches  ring 

With  Thy  beloved  name. 


OH,  HOW  WONDROUS  IS  THE  STORY! 


Hannah  More,  bom  1744,  died  1S33. 


/^H,  how  wondrous  is  the  story 
^-^    Of  our  blest  Redeemer's  birth  ! 
See,  the  mighty  Lord  of  glory 
Leaves  His  heaven  to  visit  earth. 

Hear  with  transport,  every  creature,  - 
Hear  the  gospel's  joyful  sound  : 

Christ  appears  in  human  nature,— 
In  our  sinful  world  is  found. 


D 


70  THE    INCARNATION. 

Comes  to  pardon  our  transgression, 
Like  a  cloud  our  sins  to  blot ; 

Comes  to  His  own  favored  nation, 
But  His  own  receive  Him  not. 

If  the  angels  who  attended 

To  declare  the  Saviour's  birth, 

Who  from  heaven  with  songs  descended 
To  proclaim  good-will  on  earth,  — 

If,  in  pity  to  our  blindness, 

They  had  brought  the  pardon  needed, 
Still  Jehovah's  wondrous  kindness 

Had  our  warmest  hopes  exceeded. 

If  some  prophet  had  been  sent 
With  salvation's  joyful  news. 

Who  that  heard  the  blest  event 
Could  their  warmest  love  refuse? 

But  'twas  He  to  whom  in  heaven 

Hallelujahs  never  cease ; 
He,  the  mighty  God,  was  given,  — 

Given  to  us,  —  a  Prince  of  peace. 

None  but  He  who  did  create  us 
Could  redeem  from  sin  and  hell ; 

None  but  He  could  reinstate  us 
In  the  rank  frorn  which  we  fell. 


-0                                                                                                                          f 

'^ 

c 

^ 

« 

OH,    HOW    WONDROUS    IS    THE    STORY  !             71 

Had  He  come,  the  glorious  Stranger, 
Decked  with  all  the  world  calls  great ; 

Had  He  lived  in  pomp  and  grandeur, 
Crowned  with  more  than  royal  state,  — 

Still  our  tongues,  with  praise  o'erflowing, 
On  such  boundless  love  would  dw^ell ; 

Still  our  hearts,  with  rapture  glowing. 
Feel  what  words  could  never  tell. 

But  what  wonder  should  it  raise. 

Thus  our  lowest  state  to  borrow ! 
Oh,  the  high  mysterious  ways, — 

God's  own  Son  a  child  of  sorrow ! 

'Twas  to  bring  us  endless  pleasure 

He  our  suffering  nature  bore ; 
'Twas  to  give  us  heavenly  treasure 

He  was  willing  to  be  poor. 

Come,  ye  rich,  survey  the  stable 

Where  your  infant  Saviour  lies ; 
From  your  full,  o'erflowing  table, 

Send  the  hungry  good  supplies. 

Boast  not  your  ennobled  stations  ; 

Boast  not  that  you're  highly  fed ; 
Jesus  —  hear  it,  all  ye  nations  !  — 

Had  not  where  to  lay  His  head. 

u 

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M 

72  THE    INCARNATION. 

Learn  of  me,  thus  cries  the  Saviour, 
If  my  kingdom  you'd  inherit ; 

Sinner,  quit  your  proud  behavior, 
Learn  my  meek  and  lowly  spirit. 

Come,  ye  servants,  see  your  station 
Freed  from  all  reproach  and  shame  : 

He  who  purchased  your  salvation 
Bore  a  servant's  humble  name. 

Come,  ye  poor,  some  comfort  gather ; 

Faint  not  in  the  race  you  run : 
Hard  the  lot  your  gracious  Father 

Gave  His  dear.  His  only  Son. 

Think  that,  if  your  humbler  stations 
Less  of  worldly  good  bestow, 

You  escape  those  strong  temptations 
Which  from  wealth  and  grandeur  flow. 

See,  your  Saviour  is  ascended  ; 

See,  He  looks  with  pity  down  : 
Trust  Him,  all  will  soon  be  mended ; 

Bear  His  cross,  you'll  share  His  crown. 


■-) 


WHEN  JORDAN    HUSHED    HIS    WATERS    STILL.     73 


WHEN  JORDAN   HUSHED   HIS   WATERS 
STILL. 


Thomas  Campbell;  bom  at  Glasgow,  1777;   died  1844,  and  interred  in  the 
Poets'  Corner  in  Westminster  Abbey. 


"\T  T'HEN  Jordan  hushed  his  waters  still, 

'  ^  And  silence  slept  on  Zion's  hill ; 
When  Salem's  shepherds  through  the  night 
Watched  o'er  their  flocks  by  starry  light,  — 

Hark  !  from  the  midnight  hills  around, 
A  voice,  of  more  than  mortal  sound, 
In  distant  hallelujahs  stole. 
Wild  murmuring  o'er  the  raptured  soul. 

Then  swift  to  every  startled  eye. 
New  streams  of  glory  gild  the  sky ; 
Heaven  bursts  her  azure  gates,  to  pour 
Her  spirits  to  the  midnight  hour. 

On  wheels  of  light,  on  wings  of  flame, 
The  glorious  hosts  to  Zion  came  ; 
High  heaven  with  songs  of  triumph  rung. 
While  thus  they  smote  their  harps  and  sung : 


n 


b 


y^  THE    INCARNATION. 

O  Zion  I  lift  thy  raptured  eye  : 
The  long-expected  hour  is  nigh ; 
The  joys  of  nature  rise  again  ; 
The  Prince  of  Salem  comes  to  reign. 

See  Mercy,  from  her  golden  urn, 
Pours  a  rich  stream  to  them  that  mourn ; 
Behold,  she  binds,  with  tender  care, 
The  bleeding  bosom  of  Despair. 

He  comes  to  cheer  the  trembling  heart, 
Bids  Satan  and  his  host  depart ; 
Again  the  day-star  gilds  the  gloom, 
Again  the  bowers  of  Eden  bloom. 

O  Zion  !  lift  thy  raptured  eye  : 
The  long-expected  hour  is  nigh ; 
The  joys  of  nature  rise  again  ; 
The  Prince  of  Salem  comes  to  reign. 


cfl 


hark!  what  mean  those  holy  voices?    75 


HARK!    WHAT   MEAN  THOSE   HOLY 
VOICES? 


Rev.  John  Cawood  (bom  at  Matlock,  in  Derbyshire,  1775  ;  died  1852).  From  the 
author's  MS.,  furnished  by  his  son  for  Rogers's  Lyra  Britannica,  Lend.  1867.  In 
the  usual  collections,  the  Hallelujah  and  the  last  stanza  are  omitted.  Cawood  wrote 
also,  as  a  counterpart,  a  missionary  hymn  commencing,  "  Hark !  what  mean  those 
lamentations.  Rolling  sadly  through  the  sky?  'Tis  the  cry  of  heathen  nations, — 
'Come  and  help  us,  or  we  die  I '  " 


T  TARK  !    what  mean  those  holy  voices 

Sweetly  warbling  in  the  skies? 
Sure  the  angelic  host  rejoices, 
Loudest  hallelujahs  rise. 
Hallelujah  ! 

Listen  to  the  wondrous  story, 

Which  they  chant  in  hymns  of  joy : 

"Glory  in  the  highest,  glory, 
Glory  be  to  God  most  high  ! 
Hallelujah ! 

"Peace  on  earth,  good  will  from  heaven. 
Reaching  far  as  man  is  found  ; 

Souls  redeemed,  and  sins  forgiven, 
Loud  our  golden  harps  shall  sound. 
Hallelujah  ! 


u 


cS± -ft 


76  THE    INCARNATION. 

"Christ  is  born,  the  great  Anointed  ! 

Heaven  and  earth  His  glory  sing  ! 
Glad  receive  whom  God  appointed 

For  your  Prophet,  Priest,  and  King. 
Hallelujah  ! 

"Hasten,  mortals,  to  adore  Him, 
Learn  His  name  and  taste  His  joy, 

Till  in  heaven  you  sing  before  Him, 
Glory  be  to  God  most  high  I 
Hallelujah ! " 

Let  us  learn  the  wondrous  story 
Of  our  great  Redeemer's  birth. 

Spread  the  brightness  of  His  glory, 
Till  it  cover  all  the  earth. 
Hallelujah ! 


ANGELS,  FROM  THE  REALMS  OF 
GLORY. 


James  Montgomery,  son  of  a  Moravian  minister;  bom  1771  ;  died  at  Sheffield, 
1854.  His  first  volume  of  poems  was  composed  in  prison,  and  published  in  1797, 
under  the  title.  Prison  A  Tnusemenis. 


A  NGELS,  from  the  realms  of  glory, 
■^  Wing  your  flight  o'er  all  the  earth  ; 

Ye  who  sang  creation's  story. 
Now  proclaim  Messiah's  birth  ; 

Come  and  worship,  — 
Worship  Christ  the  new-born  King. 


U 


ANGELS,  FROM  THE  REALMS  OF  GLORY.    77 

Shepherds,  in  the  field  abiding, 

Watching  o'er  your  flocks  by  night, 

God  with  man  is  now  residing, 
Yonder  shines  the  infant-hght. 

Come  and  worship, — 
Worship  Christ  the  new-born  King. 

Sages,  leave  your  contemplations  : 

Brighter  visions  beam  afar  ; 
Seek  the  great  Desire  of  nations : 

Ye  have  seen  His  natal  star. 
Come  and  worship, — 

Worship  Christ  the  new-born  King. 

Saints  before  the  altar  bending. 
Watching  long  in  hope  and  fear, 

Suddenly  the  Lord,  descending. 
In  His  temple  shall  appear. 
Come  and  worship, — 
Worship  Christ  the  new-born  King. 

Sinners,  wrung  with  true  repentance. 
Doomed  for  guilt  to  endless  pains. 

Justice  now  revokes  the  sentence  ; 
Mercy  calls  you,  break  your  chains  ; 

Come  and  worship, — 
Worship  Christ  the  new-born  King. 


D 


78  THE    INCARNATION. 


WHAT  SUDDEN  BLAZE   OF   SONG. 


Dr.  John  Keble  (died  1866).     From  his  Christian  Year,  1827. 


"\T  THAT  sudden  blaze  of  song 

'  '     Spreads  o'er  the  expanse  of  heaven  ! 
In  waves  of  light  it  thrills  along, 
The  angelic  signal  given  : 
"  Glory  to  God  !  "  from  yonder  central  fire 
Flows  out  the  echoing  lay  beyond  the  starry  choir. 

Like  circles  widening  round 
Upon  a  clear  blue  river, 
Orb  after  orb,  the  wondrous  sound 
Is  echoed  on  for  ever  : 
"Glory  to  God  on  high,  on  earth  be  peace. 
And    love    towards    men    of    love,    salvation    and 
release  ! " 

Yet  stay,  before  thou  dare 
To  join  that  festal  throng ; 
Listen,  and  mark  what  gentle  air 
First  stirred  the  tide  of  song : 
'Tis  not,  "The  Saviour  born  in  David's  home, 
To    whom    for  power  and  health   obedient  worlds 
should  come." 


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WHAT  SUDDEN  BLAZE  OF  SONG.        79 

Tis  not,  "The  Christ  the  Lord  : " 
With  fixed  adoring  look 
The  choir  of  angels  caught  the  word, 
Nor  yet  their  silence  broke  : 
But   when   they    heard   the    sign,    where    Christ 
should  be, 
In  sudden  light  they  shone,  and  heavenly  harmony. 

Wrapped  in  His  swaddling  bands. 
And  in  His  manger  laid. 
The  Hope  and  Glory  of  all  lands 
Is  come  to  the  world's  aid : 
No  peaceful  home  upon  His  cradle  smiled ; 
Guests  rudely  went  and  came,  where  slept  the  royal 
Child. 

But  where  Thou  dwellest,  Lord, 
No  other  thought  should  be  ; 
Once  duly  welcomed  and  adored. 
How  should  I  part  with  Thee? 
Bethlehem  must  lose  Thee  soon ;    but  Thou  wilt 
grace 
The  single  heart  to  be  Thy  sure  abiding-place. 

Thee,  on  the  bosom  laid 
Of  a  pure  virgin  mind. 
In  quiet  ever  and  in  shade 
Shepherd  and  sage  may  find ; 


8o  THE    INCARNATION. 

They   who    have   bowed    untaught    to    Nature's 
sway, 
And  they  who  follow  Truth  along  her  star-paved 
way. 

The  pastoral  spirits  first 
Approach  Thee,  Babe  divine ; 
For  they  in  lowly  thoughts  are  nursed, 
Meet  for  Thy  lowly  shrine  : 
Sooner  than  they  should  miss  where  Thou  dost 
dwell, 
Angels  from  heaven  will  stoop  to  guide   them   to 
Thy  cell. 

Still,  as  the  day  comes  round 
For  Thee  to  be  revealed, 
By  wakeful  shepherds  Thou  art  found, 
Abiding  in  the  field  : 
All  through  the  wintry  heaven  and  chill  night  air 
In  music  and  in  light  Thou  dawnest  on  their  prayer. 

Oh  faint  not  ye  for  fear  ! 
What  though  your  wandering  sheep. 
Reckless  of  what  they  see  and  hear, 
Lie  lost  in  wilful  sleep  ? 
High  Heaven,  in  mercy  to  your  sad  annoy, 
Still  greets  you  with  glad  tidings  of  immortal  joy. 


w 


'tis  come,  the  time  so  oft  foretold.     8 1 

Think  on  the  eternal  home 
The  Saviour  left  for  you  ; 
Think  on  the  Lord  most  holy,  come 
To  dwell  with  hearts  untrue  : 
So  shall  ye  tread  untired  His  pastoral  ways. 
And  in  the  darkness  sing  your  carol  of  high  praise. 


'TIS   COME,  THE  TIME   SO   OFT 
FORETOLD. 


Thomas  Grinfield,  1836. 


"nniS  come,  the  time  so  oft  foretold. 

The  time  eternal  love  forecast ; 
Four  thousand  years  of  hope  have  rolled, 
And  God  hath  sent  His  Son  at  last. 
Let  heaven,  let  earth,  adore  the  plan: 
Glory  to  God,  and  grace  to  man  ! 

To  swains  that  watched  their  nightly  fold, 
Of  lowly  lot,  of  lowly  mind. 
To  these  the  tidings  first  were  told. 
That  told  of  hope  for  lost  mankind. 
God  gives  His  Son  ;  no  more  He  can : 
Glory  to  God,  and  grace  to  man  ! 
6 


82  THE    INCARNATION. 

And  well  to  shepherds  first  't  is  known, 

The  Lord  of  angels  comes  from  high, 

In  humblest  aspect  like  their  own, 

Good  Shepherd,  for  His  sheep  to  die. 

O  height  and  depth,  which  who  shall  span? 

Glory  to  God,  and  grace  to  man  ! 

Fain  with  those  meek,  those  happy  swains, 
Lord,  I  would  hear  that  angel  choir ; 
Till,  ravished  by  celestial  strains, 
My  heart  responds  with  holy  fire, 
(That  holy  fire  Thy  breath  must  fan,) 
Glory  to  God,  and  grace  to  man  ! 


THE   HAPPY  CHRISTMAS   COMES   ONCE 
MORE. 


Translated  from  the  Danish,  by  Dr.  Chs.  P.  Krauth,  Phila.  1867. 


'TPHE  happy  Christmas  comes  once  more, 

•*•  The  heavenly  Guest  is  at  the  door  : 
The  blessed  words  the  shepherds  thrill. 
The  joyous  tidings  :  Peace,  good-will ! 

To  David's  city  let  us  fly. 
Where  angels  sing  beneath  the  sky ; 
Through  plain  and  village  pressing  near, 
And  news  from  God  with  shepherds  hear. 


THE    HAPPY    CHRISTMAS    COMES    ONCE    MORE.    83 

Oh  !  let  us  go  with  quiet  mind, 
The  gentle  Babe  with  shepherds  find, 
To  gaze  on  Him  who  gladdens  them, 
The  loveliest  Flower  of  Jesse's  stem. 

The  lowly  Saviour  meekly  lies. 
Laid  off  the  splendor  of  the  skies ; 
No  crown  bedecks  his  forehead  fair, 
No  pearl  nor  gem  nor  silk  is  there. 

No  human  glory,  might,  and  gold. 
The  lovely  Infant's  form  enfold ; 
The  manger  and  the  swaddlings  poor 
Are  His  whom  angels'  songs  adore. 

O  wake  our  hearts,  in' gladness  sing ! 
And  keep  our  Christmas  with  our  King, 
Till  living  song,  from  loving  souls. 
Like  sound  of  mighty  waters  rolls. 

O  holy  Child  !  Thy  manger  streams 
Till  earth  and  heaven  glow  with  its  beams, 
Till  midnight  noon's  broad  light  has  won, 
And  Jacob's  Star  outshines  the  sun. 

Thou  Patriarchs'  joy,  Thou  Prophets'  song. 
Thou  heavenly  Day-spring,  looked  for  long. 
Thou  Son  of  Man,  Incarnate  Word, 
Great  David's  Son,  great  David's  Lord  ! 


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84  THE    INCARNATION. 

Come,  Jesus,  glorious,  heavenly  Guest, 
Keep  Thine  own  Christmas  in  our  breast ! 
Then  David's  harp-strings,  hushed  so  long, 
Shall  swell  our  Jubilee  of  song. 


CAROL,  BROTHERS,  CAROL. 


W.  A.  Muhlenberg,  D.D.     A  Christmas  Carol,  made  for  the  boys  of  St.  Paul's 
College;  the  Chorus  adapted  from  one  of  A  C.  Coxe's  Christian  Ballads,  1840. 


/'"^AROL,  brothers,  carol, 
^-^    Carol  joyfully ; 
Carol  the  good  tidings, 

Carol  merrily ; 
And  pray  a  gladsome  Christmas 

For  all  good  Christian  men. 
Carol,  brothers,  carol, 

Christmas  times  again. 

Carol  ye  with  gladness, 

Not  in  songs  of  earth  ; 
On  the  Saviour's  birthday, 

Hallowed  be  our  mirth. 
While  a  thousand  blessings 

Fill  our  hearts  with  glee, 
Christmas-day  we'll  keep,  the 

Feast  of  Charity ! 


P 


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CAROL,    BROTHERS,    CAROL. 

85 

At  the  joyous  table, 

Think  of  those  who've  none, — 

The  orphan  and  the  widow. 

Hungry  and  alone. 

Bountiful  your  offerings. 
To  the  altar  bring  ; 

Let  the  poor  and  needy 
Christmas  carols  sing. 

Listening  angel-music, 

Discord  sure  must  cease  ; 

Who  dare  hate  his  brother. 

On  this  day  of  peace? 
While  the  heavens  are  telling 

To  mankind  good-will. 

Only  love  and  kindness 

Every  bosom  fill. 

Let  our  hearts,  responding 
To  the  seraph  band, 

Wish  this  morning's  sunshine 

Bright  in  every  land  ! 
Word  and  deed  and  prayer 

Speed  the  grateful  sound, 
Bidding  merry  Christmas 
All  the  world  around. 

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86  THE  INCARNATION. 


COME,  YE  LOFTY  I  COME,  YE  LOWLY ! 


By  Archer  Gurney.    [i860.] 


/'"^OME,  ye  lofty  !  come,  ye  lowly  ! 
^-^     Let  your  songs  of  gladness  ring  ! 
In  a  stable  lies  the  Holy, 

In  a  manger  rests  the  King : 
See,  in  Mary's  arms  reposing, 

Christ  by  highest  heaven  adored  : 
Come  !  yom-  circle  round  Him  closing, 

Pious  hearts  that  love  the  Lord. 

Come,  ye  poor !  no  pomp  of  station 

Robes  the  Child  your  hearts  adore  : 
He,  the  Lord  of  all  salvation. 

Shares  your  want,  is  weak  and  poor : 
Oxen  round  about  behold  them, 

Rafters  naked,  cold,  and  bare  : 
See  !  the  shepherds  !  God  has  told  them 

That  the  Prince  of  Life  lies  there. 

Come,  ye  children,  blithe  and  merry  ! 

This  one  Child  your  model  make  ; 
Christmas  holly,  leaf  and  berry. 

All  be  prized  for  His  dear  sake  : 


COME,    YE    LOFTY  !    COME,    YE    LOWLY  !  87 

Come,  ye  gentle  hearts  and  tender ! 

Come,  ye  spirits  keen  and  bold  ! 
All  in  all  your  homage  render. 

Weak  and  mighty,  young  and  old. 

High  above  a  star  is  shining. 

And  the  Wise  Men  haste  from  far : 
Come,  glad  hearts,  and  spirits  pining ! 

For  you  all  has  risen  the  Star. 
Let  us  bring  our  poor  oblations, 

Thanks  and  love  and  faith  and  praise  : 
Come,  ye  people  !  come,  ye  nations  ! 

All  in  all  draw  nigh  to  gaze. 

Hark  !  the  heaven  of  heavens  is  ringing : 

Christ  the  Lord  to  man  is  born  : 
Are  not  all  our  hearts,  too,  singing. 

Welcome,  welcome,  Christmas  morn? 
Still  the  Child,  all  power  possessing. 

Smiles  as  through  the  ages  past ; 
And  the  song  of  Christmas-blessing 

Sweetly  sinks  to  rest  at  last. 


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88                                    THE    INCARNATION. 

JOY  AND   GLADNESS. 

» 

By  George  W.  Bethune,  D.D.  ;  born  at  New  York,  1805;  died  at  Florence, 

1862.     From  Lays  0/ Lave  and  FaM,  PWdnd.  1847. 

TOY  and  gladness  !   joy  and  gladness  ! 
*^          0  happy  day  ! 

Every  thought  of  sin  and  sadness 

Chase,  chase  away. 

Heard  ye  not  the  angels  telling, 

Christ  the  Lord  of  might  excelling, 

On  the  earth  with  man  is  dwelling, 

Clad  in  our  clay  ? 

With  the  shepherd  throng  around  Him 

Haste  we  to  bow  : 

By  the  angels'  sign  they  found  Him, 

We  know  Him  now; 

New-born  Babe  of  houseless  stranger, 

Cradled  low  in  Bethlehem's  manger, 

Saviour  from  our  sin  and  danger, 

Jesus,  'tis  Thou ! 

God  of  Life,  in  mortal  weakness, 

Hail,  Virgin-born ! 

Infinite  in  lowly  meekness, 

« 

Thou  wilt  not  scorn  ; 

n 

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n 

U  -                               H 

M 

JOY    AND    GLADNESS.  89 

Though  all  heaven  is  singing  o'er  Thee, 
And  gray  wisdom  bows  before  Thee, 
When  our  youthful  hearts  adore  Thee, 
This  holy  morn. 

Son  of  Mary,  (blessed  mother  !) 

Thy  love  we  claim  ; 
Son  of  God,  our  elder  brother, 

(O  gentle  name  !) 
To  Thy  Father's  throne  ascended, 
With  Thine  own  His  glory  blended, 
Thou  art,  all  Thy  trials  ended. 

Ever  the  same. 

Thou  wert  born  to  tears  and  sorrows, 

Pilgrim  divine ; 
Watchful  nights  and  weary  morrows, 

Brother,  were  Thine  : 
By  Thy  fight  with  strong  temptation. 
By  Thy  cup  of  tribulation, 
O  Thou  God  of  our  salvation, 

With  mercy  shine  ! 

In  Thy  holy  footsteps  treading. 

Guide,  lest  we  stray  ; 
From  Thy  word  of  promise  shedding 

Light  on  our  way  ; 
Never  leave  us  nor  forsake  us, 
Like  Thyself  in  mercy  make  us, 
And  at  last  to  glory  take  us, 

Jesus,  we  pray. 


go  THE  INCARNATION. 


IT  CAME  UPON  THE  MIDNIGHT 
CLEAR. 


Rev.  Edmund  H.  Sears;  b.,  in  iSio,  in  Berkshire  Co.,  Massachusetts;  author 
of  At/iaiiasia,  or  Foregleams  of  Immortality^  and  other  works,     i860. 


TT  came  upon  the  midnight  clear, 
-*-     That  glorious  song  of  old, 
From  angels  bending  near  the  earth 

To  touch  their  harps  of  gold  : 
"Peace  to  the  earth,  good-will  to  men 

From  heaven's  all-gracious  King  !  " 
The  world  in  solemn  stillness  lay 

To  hear  the  angels  sing. 

Still  through  the  cloven  skies  they  come, 

With  peaceful  wings  unfurled  ; 
And  still  their  heavenly  music  floats 

O'er  all  the  weary  world  : 
Above  its  sad  and  lowly  plains 

They  bend  on  heavenly  wing, 
And  ever  o'er  its  Babel  sounds 

The  blessed  angels  sing. 

Yet  with  the  woes  of  sin  and  strife 
The  world  has  suffered  long ; 

Beneath  the  angel-strain  have  rolled 
Two  thousand  years  of  wrong ; 


u 


IT    CAME    UPON    THE    MIDNIGHT    CLEAR.  OX 

And  men,  at  war  with  men,  hear  not 
The  love-song  which  they  bring  : 

Oh  !  hush  the  noise,  ye  men  of  strife, 
And  hear  the  angels  sing  ! 

And  ye,  beneath  life's  crushing  load 

Whose  forms  are  bending  low ; 
Who  toil  along  the  climbing  way 

With  painful  steps  and  slow,  — 
Look  now  !  for  glad  and  golden  hours 

Come  swiftly  on  the  wing : 
Oh  !  rest  beside  the  weary  road, 

And  hear  the  angels  sing  ! 

For  lo  !  the  days  are  hastening  on, 

By  prophet-bards  foretold, 
When  with  the  ever-circling  years 

Comes  round  the  age  of  gold ; 
When  Peace  shall  over  all  the  earth 

Its  ancient  splendors  fling. 
And  the  whole  world  send  back  the  song 

Which  now  the  angels  sing. 


92  THE    INCARNATION. 


LO,  GOD,  OUR   GOD,  HAS   COME! 


By  Dr.  Horatius  Bonar.     From  Hymns  of  Faith  and  Hope,  Third  Series,  1868. 


Fceno  jacere  pertulit, 
Praesepe  non  abhorruit, 
Parvoque  lacte  pastus  est, 
Per  quern  nee  ales  esurit. 

Old  Hymn. 

T    O,  God,  our  God,  has  come  I 
-*-^     To  us  a  Child  is  born, 
To  us  a  Son  is  given ; 

Bless,  bless  the  blessed  morn, 

O  happy,  lowly,  lofty  birth. 

Now  God,  our  God,  has  come  to  earth  I 

Rejoice  !  our  God  has  come 

In  love  and  lowliness  : 
The  Son  of  God  has  come, 
The  sons  of  men  to  bless. 
God  with  us  now  descends  to  dwell, 
God  in  our  flesh,  Immanuel. 

Praise  ye  the  Word  made  flesh  I 

True  God,  true  man  is  He. 
Praise  ye  the  Christ  of  God  ! 
To  Him  all  glory  be. 
Praise  ye  the  Lamb  that  once  was  slain. 
Praise  ye  the  King  that  comes  to  reign  ! 


c-H 


IN  BETHLEHEM,  THE  LORD  OF  GLORY.    93 


IN  BETHLEHEM,  THE  LORD  OF  GLORY. 

(^r  tst  in  Bethlehem  geboren.~) 


"Bethlehem  and  Golgotha."  A  lyric  of  rare  beauty,  by  Friedrich  Ruckert, 
one  of  the  greatest  and  purest  of  German  poets  (died  1867).  Admirably  translated  by 
the  Rev.  Thomas  C.  Porter,  Professor  of  Natural  Sciences,  Easton,  Pa. 


TN  Bethlehem,  the  Lord  of  glory, 

Who  brought  us  life,  first  drew  His  breath ; 
On  Golgotha, — oh,  bloody  story!  — 

By  suffering  broke  the  power  of  death. 
From  Western  shores,  all  danger  scorning, 
I  travelled  through  the  lands  of  morning ; 

And  greater  spots  I  nowhere  saw, 

Than  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

Where  are  the  seven  works  of  wonder 

The  ancient  world  beheld  with  pride? 
They  all  have  fallen,  sinking  under 

The  splendor  of  the  Crucified  ! 
I  saw  them,  as  I  wandered  spying, 
Amid  their  ruins  crumbled,  lying ; 

None  stand  in  quiet  gloria 

Like  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 


94  THE    INCARNATION. 

Away,  ye  pyramids,  whose  bases 
Lie  shrouded  in  Egyptian  gloom ! 

Eternal  graves  !  no  resting  places, 
Where  hope  immortal  gilds  the  tomb. 

Ye  sphinxes,  vain  was  your  endeavor 

To  solve  life's  riddle,  dai-k  for  ever, 
Until  the  answer  came  with  awe 
From  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

Fair  paradise,  where  ever  blowing 
The  roses  of  Shiraz  expand  ! 

Ye  stately  palms  of  India,  growing 
Along  her  scented  ocean-strand  ! 

I  see,  amid  your  loveliest  bowers. 

Death  stalking  in  the  sunniest  hours. 
Look  up  !     To  you  life  comes  from  far, 
From  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

Thou  Caaba,  half  the  world,  benighted. 
Is  stumbling  o'er  thee,  as  of  old ; 

Now,  by  thy  crescent  faintly  lighted. 
The  coming  day  of  doom  behold : 

The  moon  before  the  sun  decreases, 

A  sign  shall  shiver  thee  to  pieces ; 
The  Hero's  sign  !  "  Victoria  !  " 
Shout  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

O  Thou  who,  in  a  manger  lying, 
Wert  willing  to  be  born  a  child. 

And  on  the  cross,  in  anguish  dying, 
The  world  to  God  hast  reconciled  ! 


c 


IN  BETHLEHEM,  THE  LORD  OF  GLORY.    95 

To  pride,  how  mean  Thy  lowly  manger ! 
How  infamous  Thy  cross  !  yet  stranger  ! 

Humility  became  the  law 

At  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

Proud  kings,  to  worship  One  descended 

From  humble  shepherds,  thither  came ; 
And  nations  to  the  cross  have  wended. 

As  pilgrims,  to  adore  His  name. 
By  war's  fierce  tempest  rudely  battered. 
The  world,  but  not  the  cross,  was  shattered, 

When  East  and  West  it  struggling  saw 

Round  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

O  let  us  not  with  mailed  legions. 

But  with  the  spirit  take  the  field, 
To  win  again  those  holy  regions. 

As  Christ  compelled  the  world  to  yield  ! 
Let  rays  of  light,  on  all  sides  streaming. 
Dart  onward,  like  apostles  gleaming. 

Till  all  mankind  their  light  shall  draw 

From  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha  ! 

With  staft'  and  hat,  the  scallop  wearing, 

The  far-off"  East  I  journeyed  through  ; 
And  homeward,  now,  a  pilgrim  bearing 

This  message,  I  have  come  to  you : 
Go  not  with  hat  and  staff"  to  wander 
Beside  God's  grave  and  cradle  yonder ; 

Look  inward,  and  behold  with  awe 

His  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 


u 


96  THE    INCARNATION. 

O  heart !  what  profits  all  thy  kneeling, 

Where  once  He  laid  His  infant  head, 
To  view  with  an  enraptured  feeling 

His  grave,  long  empty  of  its  dead? 
To  have  Him  born  in  thee  with  power. 
To  die  to  earth  and  sin  each  hour, 

And  live  to  Him,  — this  only,  ah  ! 

Is  Bethlehem  and  Golefotha. 


D 


c: 


THE   INFANT    SAVIOUR   WITH   THE 
VIRGIN   MOTHER. 


"Hail,  thou  that  art  highly  favored,  the  Lord  is  with  thee;  blessed  art  thou 
among  women."  —  Luke  i.  28. 

"  Mary  kept  all  these  things,  and  pondered  them  in  her  heart."  —  Luke  ii.  19. 

"  C^^  wedded  Maid  and  Virgin  Mother  born." 
v_>/  John  Milton. 

"  Say  of  me  as  the  angel  said,  —  '  Thou  art 

The  blessedest  of  women  ! '  —  blessedest, 

Not  holiest,  not  noblest,  —  no  high  name, 

Whose  height,  misplaced,  may  pierce  me  like  a  shame. 

When  I  sit  meek  in  heaven  !  " 

Mrs.  Browning. 


Stabat  Mater  speciosa 
Juxta  foenum  gaudiosa, 

Dum  jacebat  parvulus  — 
Cujus  animam  gaudentera, 
Laetabundam  ac  ferventem, 

Pertransivit  jubilus. 

O  quam  lata  et  beata 
Fuit  hsec  immaculata 

Mater  Unigeniti  ! 
Qus  gaudebat  et  ridebat, 
Exultabat,  cum  videbat 

Nati  partum  inclyti ! 

Jacobus  de  Benedictis. 


1306. 


THE    INFANT    SAVIOUR    WITH 
THE    VIRGIN    MOTHER. 


THE   GOD  WHOM  EARTH   AND   SEA. 

{^^uem  terra,  pontus,  sidera.) 


0!d  Latin  hymn.  Daniel,  Tome  I.  p.  172  (two  forms);  translated  in  Tke 
JVords  0/  the  Hymnal  Noted,  No.  88,  and,  with  some  changes,  in  Hymns  Ancient 
and  Modem,  No.  249.     Abridged. 


'T^HE  God  whom  earth  and  sea  and  sky 

Adore  and  laud  and  magnify, 
Whose  might  they  own,  whose  praise  they  swell, 
In  Mary's  womb  vouchsafed  to  dwell. 

The  Lord  whom  sun  and  moon  obey, 
Whom  all  things  serve  from  day  to  day, 
Was  by  the  Holy  Ghost  conceived, 
Of  her  who,  through  His  grace,  believed. 

How  blest  that  Mother,  in  whose  shrine 
The  world's  Creator,  Lord  divine. 
Whose  hand  contains  the  earth  and  sky, 
Once  deigned,  as  in  His  ark,  to  lie ! 


D 


n  ^ 


lOO       INFANT    SAVIOUR    WITH    VIRGIN    MOTHER. 

Blest  in  the  message  Gabriel  brought, 
Blest  by  the  work  the  Spirit  wrought, 
From  whom  the  great  Desire  of  earth 
Took  human  flesh  and  human  birth. 

O  Lord,  the  Virgin-born,  to  Thee 
Eternal  praise  and  glory  be  ! 
Whom,  with  the  Father,  we  adore, 
And  Holy  Ghost  for  evermore. 


WHEN,  WITHIN   HIS   MOTHER'S  ARMS. 

{Parvutn  quando  cerno  Deum.') 


By  an  anonymous  author  of  the  i4th-i6th  century.      See  Daniel,  W.  p.  342. 
Translated  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  E.  A.  Washburn,  New  York,  May,  1868.     Contributed 


"\"\  THEN  within  His  mother's  arms 

'  '  I  the  infant  God  behold. 
All  my  heart  the  vision  warms 
With  a  blessedness  untold. 

Leaps  He,  mother  !  leaps  the  Boy, 
Gazing  at  thy  holy  breast ! 
Kisses  with  a  smile  of  joy, 
Thousand  kisses,  fondly  pressed  ! 


WHEN,    WITHIN    HIS    MOTHERS    ARMS.  lOI 

As  upon  the  stainless  skies 
Peaceful  hangs  the  new-born  sun, 
So  upon  thy  bosom  lies, 
Mother  pure,  thy  Holy  One. 

Ah  !  how  lovely  that  repose  ! 
Mother  with  the  Infant  fair, 
Twined  as  with  the  tender  rose 
Violet  and  lily  are. 

Many  a  silent  clasp  of  bliss. 
Many  a  look  of  smiling  love. 
As  the  flowers  the  meadows  kiss, 
As  the  starry  eyes  above. 

Oh  !  if  one  such  loving  dart, 
Falling  on  that  mother  mild, 
May  but  fall  upon  my  heart. 
Infant  Jesu,  Holy  Child  !  ^ 


*  "  O  !  ut  una  ex  sagittis, 
Dulcis  O  puerule  1 
Quas  in  matris  pectus  mittis, 
Cadat  in  me,  Jesule  1 " 


:zD 


1 02      INFANT   SAVIOUR   WITH   VIRGIN   MOTHER. 


SLEEP,   HOLY  BABE. 


Edward  E.  Caswall. 


**  But  see,  the  Virgin  blest 
Hath  laid  her  Babe  to  rest." 

Milton. 

OLEEP,  Holy  Babe, 
*^   Upon  Thy  mother's  breast ; 
Great  Lord  of  earth  and  sea  and  sky, 
How  sweet  it  is  to  see  Thee  lie 
In  such  a  place  of  rest ! 

Sleep,  Holy  Babe : 
Thine  angels  watch  around, 
All  bending  low,  with  folded  wings, 
Before  the  Incarnate  King  of  kings, 
In  reverent  awe  profound. 

Sleep,  Holy  Babe, 

While  I  with  Mary  gaze 
In  joy  upon  that  face  awhile, 
Upon  the  loving  Infant  smile. 

Which  there  divinely  plays. 


THOU  STANDEST  BETWEEN  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN.     IO3 

Sleep,  Holy  Babe ; 

Ah  !  take  Thy  brief  repose  : 
Too  quickly  will  Thy  slumbers  break, 
And  Thou  to  lengthened  pains  awake, 

That  death  alone  shall  close. 

Then  must  those  hands 

Which  now  so  fair  I  see, 
Those  little  pearly  feet  of  Thine, 
So  soft,  so  delicately  fine. 

Be  pierced  and  rent  for  me. 

Then  must  that  brow 

Its  thorny  crown  receive  ; 
That  cheek,  more  lovely  than  the  rose, 
Be  drenched  with  blood,  and  marred  with  blows, 

That  I  thereby  may  live. 


THOU  STAND'ST  BETWEEN  THE  EARTH 
AND  HEAVEN. 


Mrs.  Grace  Webster  Hinsdale,  Brooklyn,  N.Y-    Written  after  viewing  Ra- 
phael's Madonna  di  San  Sisto,  in  the  Royal  Gallery  of  Dresden,  Aug.  1867. 


"  I  ^HOU  stand'st  between  the  earth  and  heaven, 

Sweet  Mary,  with  thy  boy  ; 
And  on  thy  young  and  lovely  face 
Lingers  surprise  and  joy. 


D 


I04       INFANT    SAVIOUR    WITH    VIRGIN    MOTHER. 

The  angel's  words  are  sounding  yet 

In  thy  attentive  ear  ; 
Thou  hold'st  thy  child  most  tenderly, 

And  yet  with  awe  and  fear. 

Almost  a  frightened  look  thou  hast, 

As  if  within  thy  thought 
The  glory  of  thy  motherhood 

An  anxious  burden  brought. 

Thou  dar'st  not  clasp  the  Holy  Child 

With  freedom  to  thy  breast ; 
And  yet,  because  He  is  thine  own, 

Thou  look'st  supremely  blest. 

God  gave  the  Boy  into  thine  arms, 

And  thou  His  mother  art ; 
And  yet  the  words  the  angel  spoke 

Are  lingering  in  thy  heart. 

Thou  canst  not  call  Him  quite  thine  own ; 

And  when,  upon  thy  knee, 
He  sleeps  as  other  infants  sleep, 

Thou  dost  a  glory  see, 

Which  fills  thee  with  a  kind  of  awe, 
And  makes  thee  tremble  so. 

That  thou  dost  lay  thy  Baby  down. 
And,  bending  very  low. 


ZD 


THOU  STANDEST  BETWEEN  EARTH  AND  HEAVEN.     IO5 

Dost  ask  the  Father  why  He  sent 

A  Babe  divine  to  thee. 
And,  pouring  out  thy  troubled  heart, 

Dost  seek  His  sympathy. 

O  Mary  !  loved  of  God  and  man, 

Let  all  thy  fears  depart : 
For  God  will  send  His  Spirit  down. 

To  guide  thy  anxious  heart ; 

And  thou  shalt  rear  the  Blessed  Child, 

Cheered  by  His  smile  divine ; 
And,  in  thy  sweet  and  humble  home. 

Shall  God's  veiled  glory  shine. 

But,  oh  !  I  dread  for  thee  the  hour 

When  thou  shalt  stand  alone 
Beneath  the  cross  where  God's  dear  Son 

Shall  for  man's  sin  atone. 

A  sword  shall  enter  then  thine  heart, 

And  leave  such  bitter  pain, 
That  thou  wilt  kneel  in  agony, 

Inquiring  once  again, 

Why  God  should  crush  thee  with  a  grief 

No  other  heart  could  share? 
And  why,  in  utter  loneliness, 

Thou  must  the  anguish  bear? 


I06      INFANT    SAVIOUR   WITH    VIRGIN    MOTHER, 

And,  oh  !  I  see  another  da)'' 

When  thou  shalt  wondering  stand, 

Amidst  a  throng  who  welcome  thee, 
In  heaven,  the  blessed  land  ! 

And  then  the  Lord,  who  lived  on  earth 

Clothed  in  humility, 
Shall  sit  upon  His  Father's  throne 

In  radiant  majesty. 

The  angels  then  shall  lead  thy  feet 

Across  the  crystal  sea ; 
And  thou  shalt  reach  the  Blessed  One 

Who  lived  and  died  for  thee. 

Thy  grateful  praise  shall  swell  the  song 
Which  rises  toward  the  throne  ; 

For  then  the  mysteries  of  earth 
Shall  all  be  fully  known. 

Sweet  Mary,  when  the  gate  of  life 
Death's  hand  unlocks  for  me, 

I  shall  discern  thy  lovely  face, 
By  its  humility. 


HAIL,    INFANT    MARTYRS  !  IO7 

HAIL,   INFANT   MARTYRS! 

{Salveie,  Jiores  tnarlyrum .') 


The  Infant  Martyrs  of  Bethlehem.  From  a  famous  hymn  of  Prudentius  of 
Spain  (d.  405),  which  is  used  in  the  Latin  Church  on  Innocents'  Day,  —  the  second 
day  after  Christmas.  Christ  was  born  on  earth,  that  we  might  be  born  in  heaven. 
The  ancient  Church  called  the  death  of  the  martyrs  their  heavenly  birthday.  The 
translation  is  from  Chandler's  Hytnns  of  the  Primitive  Church,  1837.  See  the 
Latin  in  Daniel,  I.  124,  and  in  Trench,  p.  121.  Other  English  translations  by  J.  M. 
Neale  ("All  hail,  ye  infant  martyr-flowers  I "),  and  by  Caswall  ("Lovely  flowers 
of  martyrs,  hail  1 ")  The  Venerable  Bede  (d.  735)  wrote  also  a  hymn  for  the  Holy 
Innocents,  commencing,  "  Hymnum  canentes  Martyrum  "  (repeating  the  first  line  in 
the  last  of  every  stanza) ;  and  John  Keble,  in  his  Christian  Year  ("  .Say,  ye  celestial 
guards  who  wait"),  which  is  far  superior  in  poetic  merit  to  that  of  Bede. 


T  TAIL,  infant  martyrs  !  new-born  victims,  hail ! 
-^  -^    Hail,  earliest  flowrerets  of  the  Christian  spring  ! 
O'er  whom,  like  rosebuds  scattered  by  the  gale, 
The  cruel  sword  such  havoc  dared  to  fling. 

The  Lord's  first  votive  offerings  of  blood, 
First  tender  lambs  upon  the  altar  laid. 
Around  in  fearless  innocence  they  stood, 
And  sported  gayly  with  the  murderous  blade. 

Oh  !  what  availed  thee,  Herod,  this  thy  guilt. 
This  load  of  crime  that  on  thy  conscience  lies? 
The  Lord  alone,  whose  blood  thou  wouldst  have 

spilt. 
Now  mocks  thy  malice,  and  thy  power  defies. 


s 


D 


Io8       INFANT    SAVIOUR    WITH    VIRGIN    MOTHER. 

Yes  !  He  alone  survived,  when  all  the  ground 
Drank  the  red  torrents  of  that  carnage  wild  : 
Though  many  a  childless  mother  wailed  around, 
The  hand  of  murder  spared  the  Virgin's  Child  ! 

O  Jesu,  Virgin-born  !  all  praise  to  Thee, 
And  to  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Ghost ; 
One  God  eternal,  ever  honored  be. 
By  saints  on  earth,  and  by  the  heavenly  host. 


THE  MATER  DOLOROSA. 


From  Mrs.  H.  Beecher  Stowe's  "Mary  at  the  Cross."  Religious  Poems, 
Boston,  1867,  pp.  22-27.  I  have  selected  the  first  and  the  last  stanza  of  this  beautiful 
poem,  which  may  be  called  a  worthy  Protestant  pendant  of  the  Stabat  Mater. 


f~\  WONDROUS  mother  !  since  the  dawn  of  time 
^^^    Was  ever  love,  was  ever  grief,  like  thine? 
O  highly  favored  in  thy  joy's  deep  flow, 

And  favored,  even  in  this,  thy  bitterest  woe ! 

By  sufferings  mighty  as  His  mighty  soul 
Hath  the  Redeemer  risen  for  ever  blest ; 

And  through  all  ages  must  His  heart-beloved 
Through  the  same  baptism  enter  the  same  rest. 


U 


U 


c 


fl 


THE    EPIPHANY. 


'*  The  Gentiles  shall  come  to  Thy  light,  and  kings  to  the  brightness  of  Thy  rising." 
—  IsA.  Ix.  3. 

"  When  they  were  come  into  the  house,  they  saw  the  young  Child,  with  Mary  his 
mother,  and  fell  down,  and  worshipped  Him ;  and,  when  they  had  opened  their  treas- 
ures, they  presented  unto  Him  gifts,  gold  and  frankincense  and  myrrh."  —  Matt. 


A  LMIGHTY  GOD,  who,  bj  the  light  of  a  glorious  star,  didst 
make  known  Thine  onlj-begotten  Son  to  the  wise  men 
coming  from  afar  to  worship  Him:  mercifully  grant,  that  all 
nations  may  come  to  the  light  of  the  gospel,  and  that  we,  who 
know  Thee  now  by  faith,  may  be  conducted  to  the  full  vision 
of  Thy  glory  in  heaven ;  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  who 
liveth  and  reigneth  with  Thee,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  ever  one 
God,  world  without  end.     Amen. 


'O  Jesu,  mi  dulcissime, 
Spes  suspirantis  animae, 
Te  quserunt  piae  lacrymas, 
Te  clamor  mentis  intimge. 

Tu  cordis  delectatio, 
Amorls  consummatio, 
Tu  mea  gloriatio, 
Jesu  mundi  salvatio." 

From  St.  Bernard. 


D 


'  Lord,  make  us  with  keen  eye  to  heed 
All  lights  by  wh'ch  Thou  wouldst  us  lead  ; 
Help  us  to  toil  o'er  plain  and  hill, 
In  glad  obedience  to  Thy  will  ; 
To  see  by  I'alth,  and  humbly  fall, 
And  give  to  Thee,  who  givest  all." 

Christopher  Wokdswokth. 


u 


THE     EPIPHANY. 


A  STAR  SHINES  FORTH  IN  HEAVEN 
SUDDENLY. 


From  the  Syriac  of  EpHRiKM  SvRUS,  a  monk  and  deacon  in  Mesopotamia,  the  father 
of  Syrian  psalmody  (died  378).  The  original,  with  a  German  translation  by  Zingerle, 
in  Daniel's  Thes.  HymnoL,  III.  p.  149-151. 


A     STAR  shines  forth  in  heaven  suddenly, 

A   wondrous    orb,    less   than    the    sun,   yet 
greater,  — 
Less  in  its  outward  light,  but  greater  in 
Its  inward  glory,  pointing  to  a  mystery. 
That  morning  star  sent  forth  its  beams  afar 
Into  the  land  of  those  who  had  no  light ; 
Led  them  as  blind  men,  by  a  way  they  knew  not, 
Until  they  came  and  saw  the  Light  of  men. 
Offered  their  gifts,  received  eternal  life, 
Worshipped,  and  went  their  way. 
Thus  had  the  Son  two  heralds,  one  on  high, 
And  one  below.     Above,  the  star  rejoiced; 
Below,  the  Baptist  bore  Him  record  : 


VJ 


112  THE    EPIPHANY. 

Two  heralds  thus,  one  heavenly,  one  of  earth; 

That  witnessing  the  nature  of  the  Son, 

The  majesty  of  God,  and  this  His  human  nature. 

O  mighty  wonder !  thus  were  they  the  heralds, 

Both  of  His  Godhead  and  His  manhood. 

Who  held  Him  only  for  a  son  of  earth, 

To  such  the  star  proclaimed  His  heavenly  glory ; 

Who  held  Him  only  for  a  heavenly  spirit, 

To  such  the  Baptist  spoke  of  Him  as  man. 

And  in  the  holy  temple  Simeon  held  the  Babe 

Fast  in  his  aged  arms,  and  sang  to  Him  — 

"To  me,  in  Thy  mercy, 

An  old  man.  Thou  art  come; 
Thou  layest  my  body 

In  peace  in  the  tomb. 
Thou  soon  wilt  awake  me, 

And  bid  me  arise  ; 
Wilt  lead  me  transfigured 

To  paradise." 

Then  Anna  took  the  Babe  upon  her  arms. 

And  pressed  her  mouth  upon  His  infant  lips ; 

Then  came  the  Holy  Spirit  on  her  lips, 

As  erst  upon  Isaiah's,  when  the  coal 

Had  touched  his  silent  lips,  and  opened  them : 

With  glowing  heart  she  sang  — 

"  O  Son  of  the  King ! 

Though  Thy  birthplace  was  mean, 


Bethlehem!  of  noblest  cities.  113 

All-hearing,  yet  silent, 

All-seeing,  unseen. 
Unknown,  yet  all-knowing, 

God,  and  yet  Son  of  Man, 
Praise  to  Thy  name  !  " 


BETHLEHEM!    OF  NOBLEST  CITIES. 

(O  sola  magnarum  urbium.) 


AuRELius  Prodentius  Clemens  (died  405).  From  the  Latin,  by  E.  Caswall 
{JLyra  Catholica).  The  text  of  the  Roman  Breviary,  in  Daniel,  I.  p.  127,  and  in  the 
separate  editions  of  the  poems  of  Prudentius.  This  translation  is  altered,  but  not  im- 
proved, in  Hymns  A  ncient  and  Modern,  No.  59 :  "  Earth  has  many  a  noble  city." 


"DETHLEHEM  !   of  noblest  cities, 
^-^     None  can  once  with  thee  compare ; 
Thou  alone  the  Lord  from  heaven 
Didst  for  us  incarnate  bear. 

Fairer  than  the  sun  at  morning 
Was  the  star  that  told  His  birth  ; 

To  the  lands  their  God  announcing, 
Hid  beneath  a  form  of  earth. 

By  its  lambent  beauty  guided, 
See,  the  Eastern  kings  appear; 

See  them  bend,  their  gifts  to  offer,  — 
Gifts  of  incense,  gold,  and  myrrh. 


Z) 


& 


114  THE    EPIPHANY. 

Offerings  of  mystic  meaning  !  — 
Incense  doth  the  God  disclose  ; 

Gold  a  royal  child  proclaimeth  ; 
Myrrh  a  future  tomb  foreshows. 

Holy  Jesu  !  in  Thy  brightness 
To  the  Gentile  world  displayed  1 

"With  the  Father,  and  the  Spirit, 
Endless  praise  to  Thee  be  paid  I 


WHAT   STAR  IS   THIS   WITH   BEAMS 
SO   BRIGHT? 

(^^uce  Stella  sole  fulckrior  ?) 


Translated  from  the  Lntin.  by  Rev    J,   Ch andlek,   Hymns  of  the  Primitive 
Chitrcli^  Lond.  1837.     Altered  in  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modem. 


"\T  7HAT  star  is  this,  with  beams  so  bright, 

'  ^    Which  shame  the  sun's  less  radiant  light? 
It  shines  to  announce  a  new-born  King,  — 
Glad  tidings  of  our  God  to  bring. 

'Tis  now  fulfilled  what  God  decreed,  — 
"From  Jacob  shall  a  Star  proceed:" 
And  lo  !  the  Eastern  sages  stand. 
To  read  in  heaven  the  Lord's  command. 


WHAT  STAR  IS  THIS  WITH  BEAMS  SO  BRIGHT?      II5 

While  outward  signs  the  star  displays, 
An  inward  light  the  Lord  conveys, 
And  urges  them,  with  force  benign, 
To  seek  the  Giver  of  the  sign. 

True  love  can  brook  no  dull  delay, 
Nor  toil  nor  dangers  stop  their  way : 
Home,  kindred,  fatherland,  and  all, 
They  leave  at  once,  at  God's  high  call. 

O  Jesu,  while  the  star  of  grace 

Invites  us  now  to  seek  Thy  face. 

May  we  no  more  that  grace  repel, 

Or  quench  that  light  which  shines  so  well  I 

To  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son 
And  Holy  Spirit,  Three  in  One, 
May  every  tongue  and  nation  raise 
An  endless  song  of  thankful  praise ! 


D 


A 


Il6  THE   EPIPHANY. 


O  CHRIST,  OUR  TRUE   AND   ONLY 
LIGHT ! 

((9  Jesu  Christe,  -wa/ires  Licht.') 


From  the  German  of  Johann  Heermann,  1653,  by  Miss  C.  Winkworth  {Lyra 
Germ.  II.  43).  

r\  CHRIST,  our  true  and  only  light ! 
^-^     Illumine  those  who  sit  in  night ; 
Let  those  afar  now  hear  Thy  voice, 
And  in  Thy  fold  with  us  rejoice. 

Fill  with  the  radiance  of  Thy  grace 
The  souls  now  lost  in  error's  maze, 
And  all  in  whom  their  secret  mind 
Some  dark  delusion  hurts  and  blinds. 

And  all  who  else  have  strayed  from  Thee, 
Oh,  gently  seek  !  Thy  healing  be 
To  every  wounded  conscience  given, 
And  let  them  also  share  Thy  heaven. 

O  make  the  deaf  to  hear  Thy  word. 
And  teach  the  dumb  to  speak,  dear  Lord, 
Who  dare  not  yet  the  faith  avow. 
Though  secretly  they  hold  it  now. 


U 


THEY   GAVE    TO    THEE.  II7 

Shine  on  the  darkened  and  the  cold, 
Recall  the  wanderers  from  Thy  fold, 
Unite  those  now  who  walk  apart, 
Confirm  the  weak  and  doubting  heart. 

So  they,  with  us,  may  evermore 
Such  grace  with  wondering  thanks  adore  ; 
And  endless  praise  to  Thee  be  given. 
By  all  Thy  Church  in  earth  and  heaven. 


THEY  GAVE  TO  THEE. 


By  Bishop  Jeremy  Taylor  (died  1667).    i6sa 


T' 


^HEY  gave  to  Thee 
Myrrh,  frankincense,  and  gold; 
But,  Lord,  with  what  shall  we 
Present  ourselves  before  Thy  majesty, 

Whom  Thou  redeemedst  when  we  were  sold? 
We've    nothing    but    ourselves,    and    scarce    that 
neither ; 

Vile  dirt  and  clay  ; 
Yet  it  is  soft,  and  may 
Impression  take. 
Accept  it,  Lord,  and  say,  this  Thou  hadst  rather; 
Stamp  it,  and  on  this  sordid  metal  make 
Thy  holy  image,  and  it  shall  outshine 
The  beauty  of  the  golden  mine. 


Il8  THE   EPIPHANY. 


ALL  YE  GENTILE  LANDS,   AWAKE! 

(  Werde  Ltckt,  du  Volk  der  Heiden.') 


By  JOHANN  RisT,  1655.     Lyra  Germ.,  I.  30.    Abridged. 


A  LL  3'^e  Gentile  lands,  awake  ! 
-^~^     Thou,  O  Salem,  rise  and  shme  ! 
See  the  Dayspring  o'er  you  break, 
Heralding  a  morn  divine. 
Telling,  God  hath  called  to  mind 
Those  who  long  in  darkness  pined. 

Lo,  the  shadows  flee  away ! 
For  our  Light  is  come  at  length, 
Brighter  than  all  earthly  day. 
Source  of  being,  life,  and  strength  I 
Whoso  on  this  Light  would  gaze 
Must  forsake  all  evil  ways. 

Ah  !  how  blindly  did  we  stray, 
Ere  shone  forth  this  glorious  Sun, 
Seeking  each  his  separate  way. 
Leaving  Heaven  unsought,  unwon  ! 
All  our  looks  were  earthwards  bent. 
All  our  strength  on  earth  was  spent. 


& 


ALL    YE    GENTILE    LANDS,    AWAKE  !  II9 

But  the  glory  of  the  Lord 

Hath  arisen  on  us  to-day  ! 

We  have  seen  the  light  outpoured 

That  must  surely  drive  away 

All  things  that  to  night  belong, 

All  the  sad  earth's  w^oe  and  wrong. 

Thy  arising,  Lord,  shall  fill 

All  my  thoughts  in  sorrow's  hour ; 

Thy  arising,  Lord,  shall  still 

All  my  dread  of  Death's  dark  power : 

Through  my  smiles  and  through  my  tears 

Still  Thy  light,  O  Lord  !  appears. 

Let  me.  Lord,  in  peace  depart 

From  this  evil  world  to  Thee  ; 

Where  Thyself  sole  Brightness  art, 

Thou  hast  kept  a  place  for  me : 

In  the  radiant  city  there. 

Crowns  of  light  Thy  saints  shall  wear. 


U 


i 


1 20  THE    EPIPHANY. 


THE  WONDERING  SAGES  TRACE 
FROM  FAR. 

(/»j  Abend  blinkt  der  Morgenstern.^ 


From  the  German  of  Ernst  Lange  (1650-1727).      By  Frances  Elizabeth 
Cox,  Sacred  Hymns  from  the  German,  LonA  1841. 


'TPHE  wondering  sages  trace  from  far, 

-^     Bright  in  the  west,  the  morning  star ; 
A  light  illumes  the  western  skies, 
Seen  never  in  the  east  to  rise. 

Eternity  produced  its  blaze. 
Time's  fulness  hails  its  nearer  rays ; 
Its  brightness  chases  night  away, 
And  kindles  darkness  into  day. 

O  Jesu  !  brightest  Morning  Star  I 

Shed  forth  Thy  beams  both  near  and  far, 

That  all,  in  these  our  later  days. 

May  know  Thee,  and  proclaim  Thy  praise. 


SONS  OF  MEN,  BEHOLD  FROM  FAR  !     121 


SONS   OF  MEN,  BEHOLD   FROM  FAR! 


Charles  Wesley,  1739. 


OONS  of  men,  behold  from  far  I 
*^    Hail  the  long-expected  Star  I 
Jacob's  Star  that  gilds  the  night 
Guides  bewildered  nature  right. 

Fear  not  hence  that  ill  should  flow, 
Wars  or  pestilence  below  : 
Wars  it  bids  and  tumults  cease, 
Ushering  in  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

Mild  He  shines  on  all  beneath, 
Piercing  through  the  shades  of  death ; 
Scattering  error's  wide-spread  night, 
Kindling  darkness  into  light. 

Nations  all,  far  off  and  near. 
Haste  to  see  your  God  appear ! 
Haste  !  for  Him  your  hearts  prepare. 
Meet  Him  manifested  there. 


13 


T22  THE    EPIPHANY. 

Here  behold  the  Dayspring  rise, 
Pouring  eyesight  on  your  eyes : 
God  in  His  own  light  survey, 
Shining  to  the  perfect  day. 

Sing,  ye  morning  stars,  again  ! 
God  descends  on  earth  to  reign ; 
Deigns  for  man  His  life  to  employ 
Shout,  ye  sons  of  God,  for  joy  ! 


BRIGHTEST  AND   BEST   OF  THE   SONS 
OF  THE   MORNING. 


Reginald   Heber,  D.D.  ;  b.  1783,  at  Malpas,  Cheshire;   Bishop  of  Calcutta; 
d.  1827.  


"D  RIGHTEST  and  best  of  the  sons  of  the  morn- 
ing, 

Dawn  on  our  darkness,  and  lend  us  Thine  aid ; 
Star  of  the  East,  the  horizon  adorning, 

Guide  where  our  infant  Redeemer  is  laid. 

Cold  on  His  cradle  the  dew-drops  are  shining, 
Low  lies  His  head  with  the  beasts  of  the  stall ; 

Angels  adore  Him,  in  slumber  reclining, 
Maker  and  Monarch  and  Saviour  of  all ! 


fl 


CHRIST,  WHOSE  FIRST  APPEARANCE  LIGHTED.     1 23 

Say,  shall  we  yield  Him,  in  costly  devotion, 
Odors  of  Edom,  and  offerings  divine, 

Gems  of  the  mountain  and  pearls  of  the  ocean, 
Myrrh  from  the  forest  or  gold  from  the  mine? 

Vainly  we  offer  each  ample  oblation. 

Vainly  with  gifts  would  His  favor  secure ; 

Richer  by  far  is  the  heart's  adoration. 

Dearer  to  God  are  the  prayers  of  the  poor. 

Brightest  and  best  of  the  sons  of  the  morning. 
Dawn  on  our  darkness,  and  lend  us  Thine  aid ; 

Star  of  the  East,  the  horizon  adorning, 
Guide  where  our  infant  Redeemer  is  laid. 


CHRIST,  WHOSE  FIRST  APPEARANCE 
LIGHTED. 

(^Der  Du  hi  der  Nacht  des  TodesJ) 


"  The  Appearance  of  Christ "  (Die  Erscheinung  Christi),  by  C.  J.  Philipp  Spitta 
(1801-1859).  From  the  First  Series  of  his  Psaltery  and  Harp,  which,  since  1^*33, 
has  passed  through  more  than  thirty  editions,  and  has  given  the  author  a  place  among 
the  sweetest  hymnists  of  Germany.  Translated  by  Richard  Ma.ssie  (Lyra  Domes- 
tica,  Lond.  1S60). 

/''^HRIST,  whose  first  appearance  lighted 
^^     Gloomy  Death's  obscure  domain, 
Long  in  Herod's  courts  benighted 
Sought  I  Thee,  but  sought  in  vain  : 


D 


124  "^^-^    EPIPHANY. 

All  was  glitter,  pomp  and  pleasure, 

Sensuality  and  pride  ; 
But  my  heart  found  not  its  treasure, 

And  remained  unsatisfied. 

Then  to  learned  scribes  and  sages 

Seeking  Christ  I  wandered  on  ; 
But  upon  their  barren  pages 

Jacob's  Star  had  never  shone  : 
True,  indeed,  like  men  in  prison 

Groping  for  the  light  of  day, 
Spake  they  of  the  Light  new-risen. 

But  themselves  saw  not  one  ray. 

To  the  temple  I  was  guided 

By  the  altar-fire  and  lights ; 
But,  though  all  else  was  provided, 

Christ  was  absent  from  the  rites. 
Then,  more  precious  time  I  wasted 

In  thy  streets,  Jerusalem  ; 
But  I  sought  in  vain,  and  hasted 

On  my  way  to  Bethlehem. 

In  the  streets  I  wandered  slowly, 
Looking  for  some  trusty  guide ; 

All  was  dark  and  melancholy, 
None  I  met  with,  far  and  wide. 

On  a  sudden  I  perceived 

O'er  my  head  a  star  to  shine  ; 


o  thou!  who  by  a  star  didst  guide.    125 

Lo,  because  I  had  believed, 

And  had  sought  Him,  Christ  was  mine ! 

Only  seek  and  you  will  find  Him ; 

Never  cease  to  seek  the  Lord ; 
And  should  He  delay,  remind  Him 

Boldly  of  His  plighted  word. 
Follow  Him,  and  He  will  lead  you ; 

Trust  Him  in  the  darkest  night ; 
Jacob's  Star  will  still  precede  you, 

Jacob's  Star  will  give  you  light. 


O  THOU  I   WHO  BY  A  STAR   DIDST 
GUIDE. 


By  Dr.  John  Mason  Neale  (died  1866). 


/^  THOU  !   who  by  a  star  didst  guide 

The  wise  men  on  their  way, 
Until  it  came  and  stood  beside 
The  place  where  Jesus  lay ; 

Although  by  stars  Thou  dost  not  lead 

Thy  servants  now  below. 
Thy  Holy  Spirit,  when  they  need, 

Will  show  them  how  to  go. 


D 


a 


126  THE    EPIPHANY. 

As  yet  we  know  Thee  but  in  part ; 

But  still  we  trust  Thy  word, 
That  blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart, 

For  they  shall  see  the  Lord. 

O  Saviour !  give  us,  then.  Thy  grace, 
To  make  us  pure  in  heart ; 

That  we  may  see  Thee  face  to  face 
Hereafter,  as  Thou  art. 


AS  WITH   GLADNESS   MEN   OF   OLD. 


William  Chatterton  Dix  (born  at  Bristol,  1837;  educated  to  mercantile  pur- 
suits; residing  at  Glasgow).  Contributed  to  Hy-mtis  Aticiejit  and  Modem,  i860, 
No.  64.  

A  S  with  gladness  men  of  old 
■^-^    Did  the  guiding  star  behold  ; 
As  with  joy  they  hailed  its  light, 
Leading  onward,  beaming  bright : 
So,  most  gracious  Lord,  may  we 
Evermore  be  led  to  Thee. 

As  with  joyful  steps  they  sped 
To  that  lowly  manger-bed  ; 
There  to  bend  the  knee  before 
Him  whom  heaven  and  earth  adore  : 
So  may  we,  with  willing  feet, 
Ever  seek  Thy  mercy-seat. 


u 


AS    WITH    GLADNESS    MEN    OF    OLD.  12/ 

As  they  offered  gifts  most  rare 
At  that  manger  rude  and  bare ; 
So  may  we  with  holy  joy, 
Pure,  and  free  from  sin's  alloy, 
All  our  costliest  treasures  bring, 
Christ,  to  Thee,  our  Heavenly  King  I 

Holy  Jesus  !  every  day 
Keep  us  in  the  narrow  way ; 
And,  when  earthly  things  are  past, 
Bring  our  ransomed  souls  at  last 
Where  they  need  no  star  to  guide, 
Where  no  clouds  Thy  glory  hide. 

In  the  heavenly  country  bright 
Need  they  no  created  light ; 
Thou  its  Light,  its  Joy,  its  Crown,  — 
Thou  its  Sun,  which  goes  not  down : 
There  for  ever  may  we  sing 
Hallelujahs  to  our  King. 


P 


128  THE  EPIPHANY. 


THE  WISE  MEN  TO  THY  CRADLE- 
THRONE. 


Mrs.  Cecil  Francbs  Alexander.     Contributed  to  Baynes's  Lyra  Anglicana^ 
1867. 

''  I  ^HE  wise  men  to  Thy  cradle-throne, 
O  Infant  Saviour  I  brought,  of  old, 
The  incense  meet  for  God  alone, 
Sharp  myrrh,  and  shining  gold. 

Shine  on  us  too,  sweet  Eastern  Star, 
Thine  own  baptized  Gentile  band, 
Till  we  have  found  our  Lord  from  far. 
An  offering  in  our  hand  ! 

Till  we  have  brought  the  fine  gold  rare, 
Of  zeal  that  giveth  all  for  love  ; 
Till  we  have  prayed  the  glowing  prayer, 
Like  incense  borne  above  ; 

Till  bitter  tears  our  eyes  have  wet. 
Because  our  wilful  hearts  would  err ; 
Worship  and  love  and  sorrow  met. 
Gold,  frankincense,  and  myrrh. 

All  meet  for  Thee,  our  own  Adored, 
Our  suffering  Saviour,  God,  and  King; 
Accept  the  gold  and  incense.  Lord  : 
Accept  the  myrrh,  we  bring. 


D 


c 


WE    COME    NOT    WITH   A    COSTLY    STORE.        120 


WE  COME  NOT  WITH  A  COSTLY 
STORE. 

^^/"E  come  not  with  a  costly  store, 

^^    O  Lord  !  like  them  of  old, 
The  masters  of  the  starry  lore. 

From  Ophir's  shore  of  gold ; 
No  weepings  of  the  incense-tree 

Are  with  the  gifts  we  bring ; 
No  odorous  myrrh  of  Araby 

Blends  with  our  offering. 

But  faith  and  love  may  bring  their  best, 

A  spirit  keenly  tried 
By  fierce  affliction's  fiery  test, 

And  seven  times  purified  : 
The  fragrant  graces  of  the  mind, 

The  virtues  that  delight 
To  give  their  perfume  out,  will  find 

Acceptance  in  Tliy  sight. 
9 


t 


ft 


130  THE    EPIPHANY. 

;r  HAIL,  KINGLY  JESUS  ! 


By  the  Rev.  Dr.  A.  R.  Thompson,  pastor  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  (suc- 
cessor of  the  late  Dr.  Bethuue),  New  York.    Written  on  Christmas,  1864.    Contributed. 


T  TAIL,  kingly  Jesus  !  to  Thy  feet 
-^        Our  hearts  their  tribute  bring  ; 
Not  sparkling  gold,  not  odors  sweet, 
But  love,  our  offering. 

Such  treasures  to  Thy  manger-bed 

The  ancient  Magi  brought, 
When,  by  the  star  resplendent  led, 

Jud£ea's  King  they  sought. 

But  hearts  of  humble  poverty 

Are  fairer  in  Thine  eyes, 
And  penitence  is  more  to  Thee 

Than  costly  sacrifice. 

When  Thou  wert  sitting  once  at  meat, 
And  kneeling  humbly  there. 

With  tears  a  sinner  bathed  Thy  feet. 
And  wiped  them  with  her  hair ; 

As  over  them  she  poured  perfume 

Amid  her  tears  like  rain, 
Till  the  sweet  oder  filled  the  room, 

Thou  didst  not  her  disdain. 

And  wilt  Thou,  Master,  from  our  hymn 

Turn  scornfully  Thine  ear? 
Nay  :  'mid  the  songs  of  seraphim 

Our  worship  Thou  wilt  hear. 


fi^ 


CHRIST'S   LIFE   AND   EXAMPLE. 


"  He  hath  done  all  things  well."  —  Mark  vii.  37. 

"  I  am  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life."  —  John  xiv.  6. 

"  Follow  Me."  —  Matt.  iv.  19. 

/'^  BLESSED  JESUS!  who  wast  tempted,  as  we  are  tempted, 
yet  without  sin,  and  who,  by  Thy  perfect  obedience  to  the 
will  of  Thy  Heavenly  Father,  didst  fulfil  all  righteousness,  and 
leave  us  an  example  :  assist  us,  we  beseech  Thee,  in  our  infirmity ; 
and  enable  us,  by  Thy  Spirit,  so  to  follow  Thy  steps,  that  we  may 
daily  grow  in  grace,  and  be  transformed  more  and  more  into  Thy 
glorious  image,  to  the  praise  of  Thy  holy  name.    Amen. 

"Thou  seemest  human  and  divine, 

The  highest,  holiest  manhood  Thou  : 

Our  wills  are  ours, we  know  not  how  ; 

Our  wills  are  ours, to  make  them  Thine." 

Alfred  Tennyson. 

"Jesus,  divinest  when  Thou  most  art  man  1 " 


u 


D 


CHRIST'S  LIFE  AND  EXAMPLE. 


HOLY  JESUS,   FOUNT   OF  LIGHT! 

(^Heiligster  Jesti^  Heifgiingsquelle^ 


The  first  two  stanzas  are  freely  reproduced,  in  the  metre  of  the  original,  from  a 
German  hymn  of  Bartholom^eus  Crasselios  (about  1700);  the  third  is  added  by 
the  Ed.  The  German  poem  has  nine  stanzas  (Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  103),  and  is  a 
translation  from  the  Dutch  of  Jodocus  von  Lodenstein,  1655.  A  close,  but  not 
very  smooth,  version,  by  Dr.  Henry  Mills,  in  Hone  Gerntanicce  (  "Most  Holy 
Jesus,  Fount  unfailing.  Of  joy  all  other  joys,  excelling"),  who  erroneously  attributes 
the  original  to  Gottfried  Arnold. 


TTOLY  Jesus,  Fount  of  light ! 

-^       As  crystal  clear,  for  ever  bright. 
Thou  Stream  o'erflowing,  pure  and  free ; 
The  brightness  of  the  cherubim. 
The  glow  of  burning  seraphim. 
Are  darkness  when  compared  with  Thee. 

Be  Thou  my  pattern  bright, 

My  study  and  delight. 
My  all  in  all. 
Oh,  teach  Thou  me,  that  I  may  be 
All  pure  and  holy,  like  to  Thee  ! 


134  Christ's  life  and  example. 

Humble  Jesus !  self-denying, 

And  with  Thy  Father's  will  complying, 

Yea,  even  unto  death  resigned  ; 

Let  me,  Thy  humble  path  pursuing, 

And  pride  and  haughtiness  subduing. 

Be  guided  by  Thy  gentle  mind. 

May  I  be  ever  mild 

And  humble  as  a  child, 
And  docile  too ! 
Oh,  teach  Thou  me,  that  I  may  be 
Meek  and  obedient,  like  Thee  ! 

Loving  Jesus  !  dearest  treasure. 

Whose  love  to  man  no  man  can  measure, 

Conform  me  to  Thine  image  bright ; 

Thy  Spirit  and  Thy  strength  bestowing. 

That  I,  in  every  virtue  growing, 

May  reach  in  Thee  perfection's  height. 

Lord,  give  me  from  above 

A  heart  all  filled  with  love 
To  God  and  man  ; 
Oh,  teach  Thou  me  to  die  for  Thee, 
That  I  may  live  and  reign  with  Thee  ! 


5 


tt 


COME,    MY   WAY,    MY   TRUTH,    MY    LIFE.        1 35 


COME,  MY  WAY,  MY  TRUTH,  MY  LIFE. 


"The  Call."  Comp.  John  xiv.  6.  By  George  Herbert:  b.  at  Montgomei7 
Castle,  Wales,  1593 ;  d.  1632.  Rector  of  Bemerton,  near  Salisbury ;  remarkable  for 
the  beautiful  harmony  of  purity  and  poetry,  goodness  and  happiness,  in  his  secluded 
pastoral  life ;  generally  known  as  "  holy  George  Herbert."  As  a  poet,  he  is  quaint, 
but  pregnant  with  pious  thought,  and  belongs  to  the  same  school  as  Quarles,  Donne, 
Herrick,  and  Crashaw,  of  the  age  of  Charles  I. 


/^OME,  my  Way,  my  Truth,  my  Life : 
^^    Such  a  Way  as  gives  us  breath ; 
Such  a  Truth  as  ends  all  strife ; 
Such  a  Life  as  killeth  death. 


Come,  my  Light,  my  Feast,  my  Strength 
Such  a  Light  as  shows  a  feast ; 
Such  a  Feast  as  mends  in  length ; 
Such  a  Strength  as  makes  his  guest. 

Come,  my  Joy,  my  Love,  my  Heart: 
Such  a  Joy  as  none  can  move ; 
Such  a  Love  as  none  can  part ; 
Such  a  Heart  as  joys  in  love. 


136  Christ's  life  and  example. 

EARTH  HAS  NOTHING  SWEET  OR  FAIR. 

(^Keine  Schonheit  hat  die  JVeli.') 


From  the  German  of  Angelus  Silesius  (Johann  Angelus  Scheffler),  b.  at 
Breslau,  Silesia,  1624;  d.  1677;  author  of  205  hymns  and  poetic  proverbs,  most  of 
which  were  composed  before  he  joined  the  Roman-Catholic  Church.  Several  of  his 
hymns  are  among  the  deepest  and  most  tender  in  the  German  language,  and  breathe 
a  glovtfing  love  to  the  Saviour.  Of  the  following  poem,  we  have  two  excellent  Eng- 
lish translations, — one  by  Catherine  Winkworth  ("Nothing  fair  on  earth  I  see, 
But  I  straightway  think  of  Thee"),  and  one  by  Frances  Elizabeth  Cox  (Lend. 
1841).     The  latter  is  more  literal,  and  is  here  given. 


I  i^ARTH  has  nothing  sweet  or  fair, 
■^^   Lovely  forms  or  beauties  rare, 
But  before  my  eyes  they  bring 
Christ,  of  beauty  Source  and  Spring. 

When  the  morning  paints  the  skies, 
When  the  golden  sunbeams  rise, 
Then  my  Saviour's  form  I  find 
Brightly  imaged  on  my  mind. 

When  the  day-beams  pierce  the  night, 
Oft  I  think  on  Jesu's  light. 
Think  how  bright  that  light  will  be, 
Shining  through  eternity. 

When,  as  moonlight  softly  steals, 
Heaven  its  thousand  eyes  reveals. 
Then  I  think  :  Who  made  their  light 
Is  a  thousand  times  more  brisfht. 


& 


P 


EARTH    HAS    NOTHING    SWEET    OR    FAIR.        1 37 

When  I  see,  in  spring-tide  gay, 
Fields  their  varied  tints  display, 
Wakes  the  thrilling  thought  in  me, 
What  must  their  Creator  be  ! 

If  I  trace  the  fountain's  source, 
Or  the  brooklet's  devious  course. 
Straight  my  thoughts  to  Jesus  mount, 
As  the  best  and  purest  fount. 

Sweetly  sings  the  nightingale, 
Sweet  the  flute's  soft,  plaintive  tale ; 
Sweeter  than  the  richest  tone 
Is  the  name  of  Mary's  Son.  ^ 

Sweetness  fills  the  air  around. 
At  the  echo's  answering  sound ; 
But  more  sweet  than  echo's  fall, 
Is  to  me  the  Bridegroom's  call. 

Lord  of  all  that's  fair  to  see  ! 
Come,  reveal  Thyself  to  me  ; 
Let  me,  'mid  Thy  radiant  light. 
See  Thine  unveiled  glories  bright. 


1  This  stanza  I  have  borrowed  from  Miss  Winkworth's  trans- 
lation.    Miss  Cox  renders  it,  less  happily,  — 

"  Sweet  the  song  the  night-bird  sings, 
Sweet  the  lute,  with  quivering  strings; 
Far  more  sweet  than  every  lone 
Are  the  words  '  Maria's  Son.'  " 


D 


b 


[;^8  Christ's  life  and  example. 


Let  Thy  Deity  profound 
Me  in  heart  and  soul  surround ; 
From  my  mind  its  idols  chase, 
Weaned  from  joys  of  time  and  place. 

Come,  Lord  Jesus  !  and  dispel 
This  dark  cloud  in  which  I  dwell ; 
Thus  to  me  the  power  impart, 
To  behold  Thee  as  Thou  art. 


MY  DEAR  REDEEMER,  AND  MY  LORD. 

By  Isaac  Watts,  1674-1748.     From  his  Hymns  and  Spitittial  Songs,  \Tt.<i> 


"\ /TY  dear  Redeemer,  and  my  Lord  I 

I  read  my  duty  in  Thy  word ; 
But  in  Thy  life  the  law  appears. 
Drawn  out  in  living  characters. 

Such  was  Thy  truth,  and  such  Thy  zeal, 
Such  deference  to  Thy  Father's  will. 
Such  love  and  meekness  so  divine, 
I  would  transcribe  and  make  them  mine. 

Cold  mountains  and  the  midnight  air 
Witnessed  the  fervor  of  Thy  prayer ; 
The  desert  Thy  temptations  knew. 
Thy  conflict,  and  Thy  victory  too. 


^h^     ^J^       'O-tr     Mt^**-^^^     p«^-^  >#^  >i^^^ 


c:: 


JESUS,    STILL    LEAD    ON.  I39 

Be  Thou  my  pattern  ;  make  me  bear 
More  of  Thy  gracious  image  here : 
Then  God,  the  Judge,  shall  own  my  name 
AmoniT  the  followers  of  the  Lamb. 


JESUS,  STILL  LEAD   ON. 

{yesu,  gek  voran.') 


Count    NiKOLAUS    LUDWIG   VON   ZiNZENDORF,    I72I.      (ScHAFF's    G.    H.  B.,  No. 

106.)    Translation  from  the  Hymns  from  the  Land  of  Luther,  Edinb.  1853. 


/S.^  A-^^^y^ 


JESUS,  Still  lead  on, 


Till  our  rest  be  won  ! 
And,  although  the  way  be  cheerless, 
We  will  follow,  calm  and  fearless : 

Guide  us  by  Thy  hand 

To  our  Fatherland ! 

If  the  w^ay  be  drear, 

If  the  foe  be  near. 
Let  not  faithless  fears  o'ertake  us, 
Let  not  faith  and  hope  forsake  us  ; 

For,  through  many  a  foe. 

To  our  home  we  go  ! 

When  we  seek  relief 

From  a  long-felt  grief. 
When  temptations  come  alluring. 
Make  us  patient  and  enduring  : 


140  CHRIST  S    LIFE    AND    EXAMPLE. 

Show  US  that  bright  shore 
Where  we  weep  no  more  I 

Jesus,  still  lead  on, 
Till  our  rest  be  won  ! 
Heavenly  Leader,  still  direct  us, 
Still  support,  console,  protect  us, 
Till  we  safely  stand 
In  our  Fatherland  1 


OH  FOR  A  HEART  TO  PRAISE  MY  GOD ! 


Charles  Wesley,  1742. 


/^H  for  a  heart  to  praise  my  God  ! 
^-^     A  heart  from  sin  set  free  ! 
A  heart  that  always  feels  Thy  blood. 
So  freely  spilt  for  me  ! 

A  heart  resigned,  submissive,  meek, 
My  great  Redeemer's  throne  ! 

Where  only  Christ  is  heard  to  speak, 
Where  Jesus  reigns  alone  : 

A  humble,  lowly,  contrite  heart. 
Believing,  true,  and  clean ; 

Which  neither  life  nor  death  can  part 
From  Him  that  dwells  within  : 


& 


EV£R   WOULD    I   FAIN    BE    READING.  I4I 

A  heart  in  every  thought  renewed, 

And  full  of  love  divine ; 
Perfect  and  right,  and  pure  and  good, 

A  copy,  Lord,  of  Thine. 

My  heart,  Thou  knowest,  can  never  rest 

Till  Thou  create  my  peace ; 
Till,  of  my  Eden  repossest. 

From  every  sin  I  cease. 

Fruit  of  Thy  gracious  lips,  on  me 

Bestow  that  peace  unknown  ; 
The  hidden  manna,  and  the  tree 

Of  life,  and  the  white  stone. 

Thy  nature,  gracious  Lord,  impart; 

Come  quickly  from  above  ; 
Write  Thy  new  name  upon  my  heart. 

Thy  new,  best  name  of  Love. 


EVER  WOULD   I  FAIN  BE  READING. 

(^Immer  muss  ich  -wieder  lesen.^ 


From  the  German  of  Louise  Hensel  (b.  1796),  by  Miss  C.  Winkworth. 


"PVER  would  I  fain  be  reading, 
"^^     In  the  ancient  holy  Book, 
Of  my  Saviour's  gentle  pleading, 
Truth  in  every  word  and  look. 


D 


142  Christ's  life  and  example. 

How  when  children  came  He  blessed  them, 

Suffered  no  man  to  reprove, 
Took  them  in  His  arms,  and  pressed  them 

To  His  heart  with  words  of  love. 

How  to  all  the  sick  and  tearful 
Help  was  ever  gladly  shown ; 

How  He  sought  the  poor  and  fearful, 
Called  them  brothers  and  His  own. 

How  no  contrite  soul  e'er  sought  Him, 

And  was  bidden  to  depart, 
How  with  gentle  words  He  taught  him, 

Took  the  death  from  out  his  heart. 

Still  I  read  the  ancient  story, 

And  my  joy  is  ever  new. 
How  for  us  He  left  His  glory. 

How  He  still  is  kind  and  true. 

How  the  flock  He  gently  leadeth 
Whom  His  Father  gave  Him  here ; 

How  His  arms  He  widely  spreadeth 
To  His  heart  to  draw  us  near. 

Let  me  kneel,  my  Lord,  before  Thee, 
Let  my  heart  in  tears  o'erflow. 

Melted  by  Thy  love  adore  Thee, 
Blest  in  Thee  'mid  joy  or  woe. 


JESUS,    I    MY    CROSS    HAVE    TAKEN.  I43 


JESUS,  I   MY   CROSS   HAVE  TAKEN. 

Rev.  Henry  Francis  Lyte.     Bom  at  Kelso,  1793;  died  at  Nice,  1847. 


TESUS,  I  my  cross  have  taken, 
^      All  to  leave  and  follow  Thee ; 
Destitute,  despised,  forsaken. 

Thou  from  hence  my  all  shalt  be. 
Perish  every  fond  ambition. 

All  I've  sought  or  hoped  or  known ; 
Yet  how  rich  is  my  condition  ! 

God  and  heaven  are  still  my  own. 

Let  the  world  despise  and  leave  me ; 

They  have  left  my  Saviour  too  ; 
Human  hearts  and  looks  deceive  me : 

Thou  art  not  like  them,  untrue. 
And  while  Thou  shalt  smile  upon  me, 

God  of  wisdom,  love,  and  might ! 
Foes  may  hate,  and  friends  may  shun  me 

Show  Thy  face  and  all  is  bright. 

Go,  then,  earthly  fame  and  treasure ; 

Come,  disaster,  scorn  and  pain  : 
In  Thy  service  pain  is  pleasure ; 

With  Thy  favor,  loss  is  gain. 


144  Christ's  life  and  example. 

I  have  called  Thee  Abba,  Father, 
I  have  stayed  my  heart  on  Thee : 

Storms  may  howl,  and  clouds  may  gather, 
All  must  work  for  good  to  me. 

Man  may  trouble  and  distress  me, 

'Twill  but  drive  me  to  Thy  breast ; 
Life  with  trials  hard  may  press  me, 

Heaven  will  bring  me  sweeter  rest. 
Oh,  'tis  not  in  grief  to  harm  me, 

While  Thy  love  is  left  to  me ! 
Oh,  'twere  not  in  joy  to  charm  me, 

Were  that  joy  unmixed  with  Thee  ! 

Take,  my  soul,  thy  full  salvation  ! 

Rise  o'er  sin  and  fear  and  care ; 
Joy  to  find,  in  every  station. 

Something  still  to  do  or  bear. 
Think  what  Spirit  dwells  within  thee. 

What  a  Father's  smile  is  thine. 
What  a  Saviour  died  to  win  thee ; 

Child  of  heaven,  should'st  thou  repine? 

Haste,  then,  on  from  grace  to  glory. 

Armed  by  faith,  and  winged  by  pra3^er ; 
Heaven's  eternal  day's  before  thee, 

God's  own  hand  shall  guide  thee  there. 
Soon  shall  close  thy  earthly  mission. 

Swift  shall  pass  thy  pilgrim  days ; 
Hope  soon  change  to  full  fruition. 

Faith  to  sight,  and  prayer  to  praise. 


THOU  ART  THE  WAY;  TO  THEE  ALONE.   I45 


THOU  ART  THE  WAY;  TO  THEE 
ALONE. 


George  Washington  Doane,  Bishop  of  the  Prot.  Epis.  Diocese  of  New  Jersey ; 
died  af  Burlington,  N.J.,  1859.  "I  am  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life."  —  John 
xiv.  6. 


'T^HOU  art  the  Way  ;  to  Thee  alone 

-■-       From  sin  and  death  we  flee ; 
And  he  who  would  the  Father  seek, 
Must  seek  Him,  Lord,  by  Thee. 

Thou  art  the  Truth  ;  Thy  word  alone 

True  wisdom  can  impart ; 
Thou  only  canst  inform  the  mind, 

And  purify  the  heart. 

Thou  art  the  Life  ;  the  rending  tomb 
Proclaims  Thy  conquering  arm  ; 

And  those  who  put  their  trust  in  Thee 
Nor  death  nor  hell  shall  harm. 

Thou  art  the  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life 
Grant  us  that  Way  to  know  ; 

That  Truth  to  keep,  that  Life  to  win. 
Whose  joys  eternal  flow. 


:~) 


146  Christ's  life  and  example. 


BEHOLD,  WHERE,   IN  A  MORTAL 
FORM. 


William  Enfield  [?],  1772.  The  text  is  taken  from  the  Andmier  Sabbath 
Hymn-Book.  I  have  been  unable  to  trace  this  hymn  to  its  source.  It  is  not  found  in 
the  Warrington  Collection,  edited  by  Enfield,  1772.  He  disowns,  in  the  preface,  the 
authorship  of  any  of  the  original  compositions,  for  which  he  acknowledges  himself 
"wholiy  indebted  to  his  friends."  Enfield  was  a  Presbyterian  minister  with  Arian 
sentiments. 


"DEHOLD,  where,  in  a  mortal  form, 
^-^     Appears  each  grace  divine  ; 
The  virtues,  all  in  Jesus  met. 
With  mildest  radiance  shine. 


To  spread  the  rays  of  heavenly  light, 

To  give  the  mourner  joy, 
To  preach  glad  tidings  to  the  poor, 

Was  His  divine  employ. 

'Mid  keen  reproach  and  cruel  scorn. 

Patient  and  meek  He  stood  : 
His  foes,  ungrateful,  sought  His  life; 

He  labored  for  their  good. 

In  the  last  hour  of  deep  distress. 

Before  His  Father's  throne. 
With  soul  resigned.  He  bowed,  and  said, 

"Thy  will,  not  mine,  be  done  !  " 


HOW  BEAUTEOUS  WERE  THE  MARKS  DIVINE  !      I47 

Be  Christ  our  pattern  and  our  guide ; 

His  image  may  we  bear ; 
Oh,  may  we  tread  His  holy  steps, 

His  joy  and  glory  share  ! 


HOW  BEAUTEOUS   WERE  THE   MARKS 
DIVINE ! 


A.  C.  CoxE(bora  at  Mendham,  N.J.,  i8i8),  Bishop  of  Western  New  York,  author 
oi  Christian  Ballads  (New  York,  1840),  and  other  poems.    Written  1838. 


T  TOW  beauteous  were  the  marks  divine, 
"^        That  in  Thy  meekness  used  to  shine, 
That  lit  Thy  lonely  pathway,  trod 
In  wondrous  love,  O  Son  of  God  ! 

Oh  !  who  like  Thee  so  calm,  so  bright. 
Thou  God  of  God,  Thou  Light  of  Light? 
Oh  !  who  like  Thee  did  ever  go 
So  patient  through  a  world  of  woe? 

Oh  !  who  like  Thee  so  humbly  bore 
The  scorn,  the  scoffs  of  men,  before? 
So  meek,  forgiving,  godlike,  high, 
So  glorious  in  humility? 


B 


D 


^ 


148  Christ's  life  and  example. 

Even  death,  which  sets  the  prisoner  free, 
Was  pang  and  scoff  and  scorn  to  Thee ; 
Yet  love  through  all  Thy  torture  glowed, 
And  mercy  with  Thy  life-blood  flowed. 

Oh,  in  Thy  light  be  mine  to  go, 
Illuming  all  my  way  of  woe  ! 
And  give  me  ever  on  the  road 
To  trace  Thy  footsteps,  Son  of  God  I 


THINE   HANDMAID,  SAVIOUR!    CAN 
IT  BE? 


William  A.  Muhlenberg,  D.D.,  founder  of  St.  Luke's  Hospital,  New  York. 
Written,  on  the  words  "Come,  follow  me,"  for  the  reception  of  a  "Sister"  at  St. 
Luke's  Hospital,  1859. 

nPHINE  Handmaid,  Saviour!  can  it  be? 

Such  honor  dost  Thou  put  on  me? 
To  wait  on  Thee,  do  Thy  commands, 
The  works  once  hallowed  by  Thy  hands? 

Daily  Thy  mercy  paths  to  go, 
Bearing  Thy  balm  for  every  woe ; 
Thy  sick  and  weary  ones  to  cheer, 
Bid  them  Thy  words  of  pity  hear ; 

Parting  with  earth  Thy  cross  to  bear. 
Content  Thy  poverty  to  share. 
Rich  in  Thy  Love,  —  Thou  blessed  Lord, 
This  life  to  me  dost  Thou  accord  ? 


THOU  LORD  OF  ALL,  ON  EARTH  HAST  DWELT.     I49 

Oh,  marvellous  grace, — yea,  even  so  ! 
The  call  I  heard, — 'twas  Thine  I  know, — 
"  Come  follow  me  ;  "  the  heavenly  voice, 
How  could  it  but  constrain  my  choice  ! 

My  heart's  free  choice,  yet  bound  by  Thee ; 
Thrice  welcome,  sweet  captivity. 
My  soul  and  all  its  powers  to  fill 
With  love  of  Thee  and  Thy  dear  will ! 

Lord,  give  but  light  to  show  the  way. 
Strength  from  Thyself  to  be  my  stay, 
Grace,  always,  —  grace  to  feel  Thee  nigh, — 
Thine  Handmaid  then,  I  live  and  die. 


THOU  LORD   OF  ALL,  ON  EARTH 
HAST   DWELT. 


By  Samuel  Prideaux  Tregelles,  LL.D.,  a  learned  and  devout  biblical 
scholar,  editor  of  a  Greek  Testament  from  the  oldest  manuscripts  ;  born  at  Wode- 
house  Place,  near  Falmouth,  1813 ;  a  member  of  the  Plymouth  Community. 


nr^HOU  Lord  of  all,  on  earth  hast  dwelt, 

Rejected  and  unknown ; 
What  bitter  grief  Thy  heart  hath  felt, 
Endured  by  Thee  alone  ! 


150  CHRIST  S    LIFE    AND    EXAMPLE. 

But,  oh  !  how  full  of  truth  and  grace 
Through  all  Thou  dost  appear  ! 

And  thus  with  wonder  we  retrace 
Thy  path  of  sorrow  here. 

Thou  on  the  cross  didst  suffer,  too, 
More  than  man's  eye  could  see ; 

For  then  the  wrath  that  was  our  due. 
Was  poured,  O  Lord,  on  Thee  ! 

But  Thou  art  risen  ;  and  now  we  know 
That  Thou,  in  heaven  above. 

For  all  God's  children  here  below, 
Dost  feel  a  brother's  love. 

Oh,  may  we  ever  look  to  Thee 
For  needed  grace  and  strength, 

Till  we  Thy  face  in  glory  see. 
And  reign  with  Thee  at  length  ! 

Till  then  may  we,  who  bear  Thy  name. 

Thy  blest  example  take. 
And  count  the  world's  reproach  and  shame 

As  glory,  for  Thy  sake. 

Since  Thou  the  cup  of  wrath  didst  drain, 

None  now  for  us  is  there ; 
The  drops  of  sorrow  that  remain, 

Shall  we  refuse  to  share? 


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TRUSTINGLY,    TRUSTINGLY.                      I51 

TRUSTINGLY,  TRUSTINGLY. 

» 

/^^  ^  a-j-/  .'■•' 

f  «»^*^ 

HoRATius  BoNAR,  D.D.     From  Hymns  of  Faith  and  Hope,  Third  Series,  1S68 : 
"  My  Pilgi-image." 

'  1  TRUSTINGLY,  trustingly, 
-*-      Jesus,  to  Thee 

Come  I :  Lord,  lovingly 
Come  Thou  to  me  ! 

Then  shall  I  lovingly, 
Then  shall  I  joyfully. 
Walk  here  with  Thee. 

Peacefully,  peacefully, 
Walk  I  with  Thee  ; 

Jesus,  my  Lord,  Thou  art 

All,  all  to  me. 

Peace  Thou  hast  left  us, 

Thy  peace  hast  given  us ; 
So  let  it  be. 

Whom  but  Thyself,  O  Lord  I 
Have  I  above? 

What  have  I  left  on  earth? 

Only  Thy  love  ! 
Come  then,  O  Saviour  !  come  : 

Come  then,  O  Spirit !  come 

Heavenly  Dove. 

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152  Christ's  life  and  example. 

Happily,  happily, 

Pass  I  along, 
Eager  to  work  for  Thee, 

Earnest  and  strong. 
Life  is  for  service  true. 
Life  is  for  battle  too  ; 

Life  is  for  song. 

Hopefully,  hopefully, 

Onward  I  go, 
Cheerfully,  cheerfully. 

Meet  I  the  foe. 
Crowns  are  awaiting  us. 
Glory  prepared  for  us  ; 

Joys  overflow. 


THE     PASSION. 


"  Surely  He  hath  borne  our  griefs,  and  carried  our  sorrows ;  yet  we  did  esteem 
Him  stricken,  smitten  of  God,  and  afflicted.  But  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgres- 
sions, He  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities;  the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  Him, 
and  with  His  stripes  we  are  healed."  —  Isa.  liii.  4,  5. 

"  Christ  also  hath  once  suffered  for  sins,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  that  He  might 
bring  us  to  God."  —  i  Pet.  iii.  18. 

"  Unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His  own  blood,  and  has 
made  us  kings  and  priests  unto  God  and  his  Father,  —  to  Him  be  glory  and  dominion 
for  ever  and  ever.     Amen."  —  Rev.  i.  5,  6. 


" /~\  LORD,  the  onlj-begotten  Son,  Jesus  Christ!  O  Lord 
^^  God,  Lamb  of  God,  Son  of  the  Father,  that  takest  away 
the  sin  of  the  world !  have  mercy  upon  us.  Thou  that  takest 
away  the  sin  of  the  world,  have  mercy  upon  us.  Thou  that 
takest  away  the  sin  of  the  world,  receive  our  prayer.  Thou  that 
sittest  at  the  right  hand  of  God  the  Father,  have  mercy  upon 
us,  and  grant  us  Thy  peace."     Amen. 

O  Lord  Jesus  Christ!  who,  by  Thy  bitter  passion  and  cruci- 
fixion, hast  redeemed  me  from  the  curse  of  sin,  the  power  of 
death,  and  the  woe  of  damnation  :  most  heartily  do  I  thank  Thee 
for  Thine  unspeakable  love,  for  every  burden  Thou  didst  bear, 
for  every  tear  Thou  didst  weep,  for  every  pain  Thou  didst  suf- 
fer, for  every  conflict  Thou  didst  endure,  for  every  drop  of  blood 
Thou  didst  shed,  for  me,  Thine  enemy;  and  I  humbly  beseech 
Thee  to  give  me  grace,  that,  being  dead  unto  sin,  I  may  live  unto 
righteousness  all  the  days  of  my  life,  and  attain,  at  last,  to  the 
glory  of  the  blessed  resurrection.     Amen. 


THE     PASSION. 


SING,  MY  TONGUE,  THE  SAVIOUR'S 
BATTLE. 

(^Pange,  lingua^  gloriosi prcelium  certatninis.^ 


The  masterpiece  of  Venantius  Fortunatus,  Bishop  of  Poitiers,  in  France,  about 
600,  and  one  of  the  finest  hymns  in  the  Latin  language  ("in  pulcherrimorum  numero 
recensendum,"  says  Daniel).  Fortunatus  (530-609)  was  the  favorite  poet  of  his  age, 
a  friend  of  St.  Gregory  of  Tours  and  Queen  Rhadegunda,  and  marks  the  transition 
from  the  ancient  to  the  mediseval  hymnology.  This  passion-hymn,  like  the  one  that 
follows,  found  a  place  in  the  Roman  Breviary,  with  some  alterations.  Daniel,  I. 
p.  163-165,  gives  the  original  and  the  altered  text ;  Wackernagel,  I.  pp.  61,  62,  gives 
two  forms,  one  of  10,  the  other  of  11,  stanzas,  from  old  MSS.  (Trench  strangely  omits 
the  two  best  productions  of  this  gifted  poet.)  The  Latin  is  without  rhyme,  and  in  the 
measure  of  the  trochaic  tetrametre,  which  was  first  grouped  into  stanzas  by  Fortunatus, 
and  which  subsequently,  with  various  modifications,  became  the  favorite  measure  of  the 
medieval  hymn.  The  translation  here  given  "is  chiefly  from  E.  Caswall  (Lyra 
Catholica,  p.  137),  supplemented  from  that  of  Dr.  J.  M.  Neale  {Medieval  Hymns 
and  Sequences,  p.  1-4).  Another  version  by  Mrs.  Charles,  "  Spread,  my  tongue, 
the  wondrous  story  Of  the  glorious  battle  far"  (Christian  Life  in  Song,  p.  133). 


OING,  my  tongue,  the  Saviour's  battle  ;^ 
^^    Tell  His  triumphs  far  and  wide ; 
Tell  aloud  the  wondrous  story 

^  Caswall  has  "the  Saviour's  glorj,"  following  the  reading  of 
the  Roman  Breviary,  which  substitutes  '■'- lauream  certaminis," 
for  the  original  '■'■  frozlium  certaminis."  Thomas  Aquinas  bor- 
rowed from  Fortunatus  a  part  of  the  lirst  line  of  his  famous 
eucharistic  hymn  : — 

"  Pange,  lingua,  gloriosi  corporis  mysieriutn." 


3 


n 


156  THE    PASSION. 

Of  His  body  crucified, 
How  upon  the  cross  a  victim, 
Vanquishing  in  death.  He  died. 

Eating  of  the  Tree  forbidden, 
Man  had  sunk  in  Satan's  snare, 

When  our  pitying  Creator 

Did  this  second  Tree  prepare, 

Destined,  many  ages  later. 
That  first  evil  to  repair. 

Such  the  order  God  appointed, 
When  for  sin  He  would  atone, 

To  the  serpent  thus  opposing 

Schemes  yet  deeper  than  his  own  ; 

Thence  the  remedy  procuring, 

Whence  the  fatal  wound  had  come. 

So,  when  now  at  length  the  fulness 
Of  the  time  foretold  drew  nigh. 

Then  the  Son,  the  world's  Creator, 
Left  His  Father's  throne  on  high. 

From  a  virgin's  womb  appearing, 
Clothed  in  our  mortality. 

All  within  a  lowly  manger, 
Lo,  a  tender  babe  He  lies  ! 

See  His  gentle  Virgin-mother 
Lull  to  sleep  His  infant  cries ! 

While  the  limbs  of  God  Incarnate 
Round  with  swathing  bands  she  ties. 


SING,    MY    TONGUE,    THE    SAVIOUR's    BATTLE.      I57 

Thus  did  Christ  to  perfect  manhood 

In  our  mortal  flesh  attain  ; 
Then  of  His  free  choice  He  goeth 

To  a  death  of  bitter  pain ; 
He,  the  Lamb  upon  the  altar 

Of  the  cross,  for  us  was  slain. 

Lo,  with  gall  His  thirst  He  quenches  ! 

See  the  thorns  upon  His  brow ; 
Nails  His  hands  and  feet  are  rending ; 

See,  His  side  is  open  now  ! 
Whence,  to  cleanse  the  whole  creation, 

Streams  of  blood  and  water  flow. 

Faithful  Cross  !  above  all  other, 

One  and  only  noble  Tree  ! 
None  in  foliage,  none  in  blossom. 

None  in  fruit  thy  peers  may  be ; 
Sweetest  wood  and  sweetest  iron. 

Sweetest  weight  is  hung  on  thee  !  ^ 

1  This  and  the  two  following  stanzas  are  strangely  omitted  by 
Caswall  (in  the  Lyra  Catkolica-,  and  in  another  copy  before  me), 
and  have  been  supplemented  from  Neale's  version.  The  eighth 
stanza  is  the  finest  in  the  poem.  In  the  second  recension  given 
by  Wackernagel  (No.  79),  from  Munich  and  other  MSS.,  it  opens 
the  hymn.  The  Latin  is  a  gem  of  rare  beauty,  although  not  free 
from  a  taint  of  superstition  :  — 

"  Crux  fidelis,  inter  omnes  arbor  una  nobilii ! 
Nulla  talem  silva  profert  fronde,  flore,  germine  : 
Duke  lignum,  dulces  clavos,  dulce  pondus  sustinens." 

In  the  Roman  breviary,   "  Dulce  ferrum,    dulce   lignum,    dulce 


n 


b 


158  THE    PASSION. 

Bend  thy  boughs,  O  Tree  of  Glory  ! 

Thy  relaxing  sinews  bend  ; 
For  a  while  the  ancient  rigor, 

That  thy  birth  bestowed,  suspend  ; 
And  the  King  of  heavenly  beauty 

On  thy  bosom  gently  tend. 

Thou  alone  wast  counted  worthy 
This  world's  ransom  to  uphold ; 

For  a  shipwrecked  race  preparing 
Harbor,  like  the  ark  of  old  : 

With  the  sacred  blood  anointed, 

From  the  smitten  Lamb  that  rolled. 

When,  O  Judge  of  this  world  !  coming 

In  Th}?^  glory  all  divine, 
Thou  shalt  bid  Thy  Cross's  trophy 

Bright  above  the  stars  to  shine ; 
Be  the  Light  and  the  Salvation 

Of  the  people  that  are  Thine  !  ^ 

Blessing,  honor  everlasting, 
To  the  immortal  Deity ; 

pondus  sustinent."     Daniel  reads,  "  dulci  clavo;"   Wackernagel 
twice,  "  dulces  clavos."    Mrs.  Charles  translates  thus  :  — 

"  Faithful  cross  I  of  all  earth's  produce  only  rich  and  noble  tree ; 
No  such  flower  or  leaf  or  fruitage  we  in  all  the  world  can  see : 
Sweet  to  us  thy  wood  and  nails,  for  sweetest  weight  is  hung  on  thee." 

1  This  verse  is  no  part  of  the  original,  but  is  added  in  some 
copies,  and  translated  by  Neale. 


u 


THE  ROYAL  BANNERS  FORWARD  GO.     1 59 

To  the  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit, 

Equal  praises  ever  be  ; 
Glory  through  the  earth  and  heaven 

To  the  blessed  Trinity  ! 


THE  ROYAL   BANNERS   FORWARD   GO. 

(^Vexi'lla  Regis frodeunt.') 


From  the  Latin  of  Venantius  Fortunatus  (died  609),  by  J.  M.  Neale  {Me- 
dueval  Hymns,  p.  6),  with  slight  alterations.  The  original  (in  Daniel,  I.  p.  160,  who 
gives  also  the  variations  of  the  Roman  Breviary,  and  Wackernagel,  I.  p.  63)  is  sung, 
in  the  Roman  Church,  on  Good  Friday,  during  the  procession  in  which  the  conse- 
crated host  is  carried  to  the  altar.  Neale  calls  it  "one  of  the  grandest  in  the  treasury 
of  the  Latin  Church  ;  "  but  it  does  not  reach  the  depth  of  Bernard's  or  Gerhardt's  pas- 
sion-hymns. The  second  stanza  is  omitted  by  Neale,  as  it  is  also  in  the  Roman 
Breviary.  Another  English  translation  by  Edward  Caswall:  "Forth  comes  the 
standard  of  the  King"  (in  the  Lj/ra  Catholica);  and  one  by  Mrs.  Charlbs:  "The 
banner  of  the  King  goes  forth"  {Christian  Life  in  Song,  p.  131). 


'T^HE  Royal  Banners  forward  go, 

The  Cross  shines  forth  in  mystic  glow ; 
Where  He  in  flesh,  our  flesh  Who  made, 
Our  sentence  bore,  our  ransom  paid. 

There,  whilst  He  hung.  His  sacred  side 
By  soldier's  spear  was  opened  wide. 
To  cleanse  us  in  the  precious  flood 
Of  water  mingled  with  His  blood. 

Fulfilled  is  all  that  David  told 
In  true  prophetic  song  of  old. 


l6o  THE    PASSION. 

How  God  the  nation's  King  should  be, 
For  God  is  reigning  from  the  Tree.^ 

O  Tree  of  Glory,  Tree  most  fair ! 
Ordained  those  Holy  Limbs  to  bear ; 
How  bright  in  purple  robe  it  stood, 
The  purple  of  a  Saviour's  blood  ! 

Upon  its  arms,  so  widely  flung, 
The  weight  of  this  world's  ransom  hung : 
The  ransom  He  alone  could  pay. 
Despoiling  Satan  of  his  prey. 

With  fragrance  dropping  from  each  bough 
Sweeter  than  sweetest  nectar  Thou  ; 
Decked  with  the  fruit  of  peace  and  praise, 
And  glorious  with  triumphal  lays. 

Hail,  Altar  !  hail,  O  Victim  !  Thee 
Decks  now  Thy  Passion's  victory  ; 


1  Ps.  xcvi.  lo,  which  reads,  in  the  old  Latin  version,  "  Tell  it 
out  among  the  heathen,  that  the  Lord  reigneth  from  the  Tree." 
Justin  Martyr  accuses  the  Jews,  that  they  have  erased  the  words 
"  a  ligno,"  a-nh  ^vXov,  which  are  wanting  in  the  original  and  in  the 
Septuagint.  See  the  note  in  Daniel,  L  p.  162.  Mrs.  Charles 
renders  the  verse  thus  :  — 

"  The  truth  that  David  learned  to  sing, 
Its  deep  fulfilment  here  attains  : 
'  Tell  all  the  earth,  the  Lord  is  King  ! ' 
Lo,  from  the  cross,  a  King  He  reigns  1 " 


FORTH  FLAMES  THE  STANDARD  OF  OUR  KING.      l6l 

Where  life  for  sinners  death  endured, 
And  life,  by  death,  for  man  procured.^ 

To  Thee,  Eternal  Three  in  One, 
Let  homage  meet  by  all  be  done  : 
As  by  the  Cross  Thou  dost  restore, 
So  rule  and  guide  us  evermore. 


FORTH  FLAMES  THE  STANDARD  OF 
OUR  KING. 


The  "  Vexilla  Regis,"  in  an  abridged  translation,  by  Bishop  Williams,  of  Con- 
necticut (from  Rider's  Lyra  Americana,  1865). 


"C^ORTH  flames  the  standard  of  our  King, 
"^       Bright  gleams  the  mystic  sign. 
When  life  bore  death  of  suffering. 
And  death  wrought  life  divine. 


1  In  the  Roman  Breviary,  the  last  two  verses  of  Fortunatus, 
which  seem  to  reflect  upon  the  cross  itself,  the  glory  of  the  vic- 
tor} won  upon  it,  are  replaced  by  the  following  one,  which  shows 
the  gradual  change  of  the  original  contemplation  of  the  cross, 
as  the  mere  instrument  of  the  humiliation  and  torture  of  our 
Lord,  into  the  superstitious  worship  of  the  same  :  — 

"  O  Cross  !  our  only  hope,  all  hail  I 
This  holy  Passion-tide,  avail 
To  give  fresh  merit  to  the  saint, 
And  pardon  to  the  penitent." 
II 


n 

—S 


162  THE    PASSION. 

The  stabs  of  the  accursed  spear 
Brought  forth  the  heahng  flood, 

To  cleanse  sin's  stains  so  dark  and  drear, 
With  water  and  with  blood. 

Fulfilled  is  each  prophetic  word, 

Each  faith-inspiring  strain, 
Telling  the  nations  of  that  Lord, 

Who  by  the  Cross  should  reign. 

Hail,  Cross  of  Christ !  man's  only  hope  ; 

While  now  we  gaze  and  pray, 
Dear  Lord,  th'  exhaustless  fountains  ope, 

And  wash  our  sins  away. 


HAIL,  THOU   HEAD !    SO   BRUISED   AND 
WOUNDED. 

(^Salve,  Caput  cruentatiitn.') 


St.  Bernard,  of  Clairvaux,  the  best  and  greatest  man  of  his  age,  d.  1153  See 
Wackernagel,  I.  p.  124;  Daniel,  I.  p.  232.  Translated  by  Mrs.  Charles 
(Christian  Life  in  Song,  p.  i$q).  The  original,  in  fifty  lines,  in  five  stanzas,  ad- 
dressed to  the  face  of  Christ  ("Ad  faciem  Christi  in  cruce  pendentis"),  is  the  best  of 
Bernard's  seven  passion-hymns,  and  has  been  happily  reproduced  and  much  improved 
by  Gerhardt  in  German,  by  Alexander  and  others  in  English. 


T  TAIL,  thou  Head  !  so  bruised  and  wounded, 
■*-  -^    With  the  crown  of  thorns  surrounded ; 
Smitten  with  the  mocking  reed. 
Wounds  which  may  not  cease  to  bleed 


c& 


HAIL,  THOU  HEAD  !    SO  BRUISED  AND  WOUNDED.     163 

Trickling  faint  and  slow. 
Hail !  from  whose  most  blessed  brow 
None  can  wipe  the  blood-drops  now ; 
All  the  flower  of  life  has  fled, 
Mortal  paleness  there  instead  ; 
Thou,  before  whose  presence  dread 

Angels  trembling  bow. 

All  Thy  vigor  and  Thy  life 
Fading  in  this  bitter  strife ; 
Death  his  stamp  on  Thee  has  set, 
Hollow  and  emaciate, 

Faint  and  drooping  there. 
Thou  this  agony  and  scorn 
Hast  for  me,  a  sinner,  borne, 
Me,  unworthy,  all  for  me  ! 
With  those  signs  of  love  on  Thee, 

Glorious  Face,  appear ! 

Yet,  in  this  Thine  agony, 
Faithful  Shepherd,  think  of  me ; 
From  whose  lips  of  love  divine 
Sweetest  draughts  of  life  are  mine, 

Purest  honey  flows. 
All  unworthy  of  Thy  thought, 
Guilty,  yet  reject  me  not ; 
Unto  me  Thy  head  incline, 
Let  that  dying  head  of  Thine 

In  mine  arms  repose  ! 


164  THE    PASSION. 

Let  me  true  communion  know 
With  Thee  in  Thy  sacred  woe, 
Counting  all  beside  but  dross, 
Dying  with  Thee  on  Thy  Cross : 

'Neath  it  will  I  die  ! 
Thanks  to  Thee  with  every  breath, 
Jesus,  for  Thy  bitter  death  ; 
Grant  Thy  guilty  one  this  prayer. 
When  my  dying  hour  is  near, 

Gracious  God,  be  nigh  I 

When  my  dying  hour  must  be, 
Be  not  absent  then  from  me  ; 
In  that  dreadful  hour,  I  pray, 
Jesus,  come  without  delay  : 

See  and  set  me  free  ! 
When  Thou  biddest  me  depart. 
Whom  I  cleave  to  with  my  heart. 
Lover  of  my  soul,  be  near ; 
With  Thy  saving  Cross  appear, 

Shew  Thyself  to  me  I 


JESUS'    HOLY    CROSS    AND    DYING.  165 


JESUS'   HOLY  CROSS   AND   DYING. 

(^Recordare  sanctce  cruets.^ 


From  the  Latin  of  John  Bonaventura,  a  celebrated  scholastic  and  mystic  divine 
of  the  Franciscan  order,  professor  of  theology  in  Paris,  called  the  "  Seraphic  Doctoi  ;  " 
died  at  Lyons,  1274.  This  "  Laudismus  de  S.  Cruce  "  is  his  best  poem.  Daniel, 
IL  pp.  loi,  102.  (Trench  omits  it,  but  gives  two  other  passion-hymns  of  Bonav., 
pp.  143-147.)  The  original  has  fifteen  stanzas,  the  last  bearing  a  strong  resemblance 
to  the  second  last  of  the  "Stabat  Mater  Dolorosa."  Translated  by  Dr.  James  W. 
Alexander,  of  New  York  (d.  1S59).  .Another  English  version  by  Dr.  H.  Har- 
BAUGH,  in  the  Mercersburg  Review,  1858,  p.  481  ("Make  the  cross  your  medita- 
tion "  );  a  German  version  by  Ram  bach  in  Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  119. 


TESUS'  holy  Cross  and  dying 
O  remember  !  ever  eyeing 
Endless  pleasure's  pathway  here ; 
At  the  Cross  thy  mindful  station 
Keep,  and  still  in  meditation 
All  unsated  persevere. 

When  thou  toilest,  when  thou  sleepest, 
When  thou  smilest,  when  thou  weepest, 

Or  in  mirth,  or  woe,  hast  part ; 
When  thou  comest,  when  thou  goest, 
Grief  or  consolation  showest,  — 

Hold  the  Cross  within  thy  heart. 

Tis  the  Cross,  when  comforts  languish, 
In  the  heaviest  hour  of  anguish. 
Makes  the  broken  spirit  whole  • 


B 


l66  THE    PASSION. 

When  the  pains  are  most  tormenting, 
Sweetly  here  the  heart  relenting 
Finds  the  refuge  of  the  soul. 

Christ's  Cross  is  the  gate  of  heaven, 
Trust  to  all  disciples  given, 

Who  have  conquered  all  their  foes ; 
Christ's  Cross  is  the  people's  healing. 
Heavenly  goodness  o'er  it  stealing 

In  a  stream  of  wonders  flows. 

'Tis  the  cure  of  soul-diseases, 

Truth  that  guides,  and  light  that  pleases, 

Sweetness  in  the  heart's  distress  ; 
Life  of  souls  in  heavenly  pleasure. 
And  of  raptured  saints  the  treasure, 

Ornament  and  blissfulness. 

Jesus'  Cross  is  virtue's  mirror, 
Guide  to  safety  out  of  error, 

True  believers'  single  rest ; 
Crown  of  Pilgrims  unto  heaven. 
Solace  to  the  weary  given. 

Longed  for  by  the  humble  breast. 

Jesus'  Cross,  the  Tree  once  scorned. 
All  with  crimson  drops  adorned, 

Laden  hangs  with  rich  supplies ; 
These  the  souls  from  death  are  leading. 
Who,  with  heavenly  spirits  feeding, 

Taste  the  manna  of  the  skies. 


D 


o'erwhelmed  in  depths  of  woe.         167 

Crucified  !  Thy  strength  supplying, 
Let  me,  till  my  day  of  dying. 

Gaze  upon  Thy  dying  face  ! 
Yea,  Thy  deepest  wounds  desiring, 
Thee,  though  on  the  Cross  expiring. 

Ever  pant  I  to  embrace. 


O'ERWHELMED   IN   DEPTHS   OF  WOE. 

(^Scevo  dolorum  titrbine.~) 


From  the  Latin,  by  Edward  Caswall  {Lyra  Caiholica,  1848). 


/^'ERWHELMED  in  depths  of  woe, 
^^    Upon  the  tree  of  scorn. 
Hangs  the  Redeemer  of  mankind, 
With  racking  anguish  torn. 

See  !  how  the  nails  those  hands 
And  feet  so  tender  rend  ! 
See !  down  His  face,  and  neck,  and  breast, 
His  sacred  blood  descend. 

Hark  !  with  what  awful  cry 
His  spirit  takes  its  flight ; 
That  cry, — it  pierced  His  Mother's  heart, 
And  whelmed  her  soul  in  night. 


1 68  THE    PASSION. 

Earth  hears,  and  to  its  base 
Rocks  wildly  to  and  fro  ; 
Tombs  burst;  seas,  rivers,  mountains  quake; 
The  veil  is  rent  in  two. 

The  sun  withdraws  his  light ; 
The  midday  heavens  grow  pale ; 
The  moon,  the  stars,  the  universe, 
Their  Maker's  death  bewail. 

Shall  man  alone  be  mute? 
Come,  youth  and  hoary  hairs  ! 
Come,  rich  and  poor!  come,  all  mankind! 
And  bathe  those  feet  in  tears. 

Come  !  fall  before  His  Cross, 
Who  shed  for  us  His  blood  ; 
Who  died  the  victim  of  pure  love, 
To  make  us  sons  of  God. 

Jesu,  all  praise  to  Thee, 
Our  joy  and  endless  rest ! 
Be  Thou  our  guide  while  pilgrims  here. 
Our  crown  amid  the  blest. 


AT    THE    CROSS    HKR    STATION    KEEPING.        1 69 


AT  THE   CROSS   HER  STATION 
KEEPING. 

{Stabat  Mater  Dolorosa.') 


From  the  Latin  of  Jacopone  or  Jacobus  de  Benedictis,  a  Franciscan  monk 
(d.  1306).  The  "  Stabat  Mater,"  as  it  is  familiarly  called,  or,  better,  the  "  Mater  Do- 
lorosa," Mary  by  the  Cross  of  Calvary  (to  distinguish  it  from  its  recently  discovered 
companion-hymn,  the  "  Mater  Speciosa,"  or  Mary  by  the  cradle  of  Bethlehem).  It  is 
the  most  pathetic,  as  the  "  Dies  Irse  "  is  the  most  sublime,  hymn  of  the  middle  ages, 
and  occupies  the  second  rank  in  Latin  hymnology.  Suggested  by  the  incident  related 
by  St.  John  xix.  25  ("  Stabat  juxta  crucem  mater  ejus  "),  and  the  prophecy  of  Simeon, 
Luke  ii.  35,  it  describes,  with  overpowering  effect,  the  piercing  agony  of  Mary  at  the 
cross,  and  the  burning  desire  to  be  identified  with  her,  by  sympathy,  in  the  intensity  of 
her  grief.  It  furnished  the  text  for  some  of  the  noblest  musical  compositions  of  Pales- 
trina,  Pergolesi,  Haydn,  and  others.  Unfortunately,  hke  the  "Mater  Speciosa,"  it  is 
disfigured  by  Mariolatry.  The  objectionable  stanzas,  which  contain  a  prayer  to  Mary, 
have  been  here  omitted.  For  the  original,  in  ten  stanzas,  see  Wackernagel,  I. 
136,  162;  MoNE,  II.  147-154:  Daniel,  II.  133.  Many  German,  and  several  English, 
translations  (by  Lord  Lindsay,  Caswall,  Coles,  Benedict,  &c.).  The  soft,  sad  melody 
of  its  verse  is  untranslatable.  Comp.  Lisco,  Stabat  Mater.  Berlin,  1843  (with  fifty- 
three  German,  and  several  Dutch,  translations) ;  Ozanam,  Les  Poctes  Franciscains 
en  Italie  au  troisiime  siecle,  Paris,  1852  ;  and  my  article  on  the  two  Stabat  Maters  in 
the  Hours  at  Home  for  May,  1867,  pp.  S°~S8-  The  best  Protestant  companion- 
hymn  of  the  Stabat  Mater  is  Mrs.  H.  Beecher  Stowe's  "  O  wondrous  mother  I " 
but  too  long  for  this  Collection. 

A  T  the  cross  her  station  keeping, 
-^~^    Stood  the  mournful  Mother  weeping, 

Where  He  hung,  her  Son  and  Lord ; 
For  her  soul,  of  joy  bereaved, 
Bowed  with  anguish,  deeply  grieved. 
Felt  the  sharp  and  piercing  sword. 

Oh,  how  sad  and  sore  distressed 
Now  was  she,  that  Mother  blessed 
Of  the  sole-begotten  One ; 


cfi 


170  THE    PASSION. 

Deep  the  woe  of  her  affliction 
When  she  saw  the  Crucifixion  ^ 
Of  her  ever-glorious  Son. 

Who,  on  Christ's  dear  Mother  gazing, 
Pierced  by  anguish  so  amazing, 

Born  of  woman,  would  not  weep? 
Who,  on  Christ's  dear  Mother  thinking, 
Such  a  cup  of  sorrow  drinking, 

Would  not  share  her  sorrows  deep? 

For  His  people's  sins  chastised 
She  beheld  her  Son  despis^'d. 

Scourged,  and  crowned  with  thorns  entwined ; 
Saw  Him  then  from  judgment  taken, 
And  in  death  by  all  forsaken, 

Till  His  Spirit  He  resigned. 

Jesu,  may  such  deep  devotion 
Stir  in  me  the  same  emotion. 

Fount  of  love.  Redeemer  kind  ! 
That  my  heart,  fresh  ardor  gaining, 
And  a  purer  love  attaining. 

May  with  Thee  acceptance  find. 

1  It  is  difficult  to  render  the  musical  quadruplication   of  the 
double  rhymes  in  the  Latin:  — 

Quae  moerebat  et  dolebat, 
Et  tremebat,  cum  videbat. 
"Who  stood  grieving,  sighs  upheaving, 
Spirit-reaving,  bosom-cleaving ; " 

or  (as  Dr.  Coles  has  it)  :  — 

"Trembling,  grieving,  bosom-heaving; 
While  perceiving,  scarce  believing,'"  &c. 


ff 


WHAT    LAWS,    MY    BLESSED    SAVIOUR?  I7I 


WHAT  LAWS,  MY  BLESSED   SAVIOUR? 

{^Herzliebster  Jesti^  zvas  hast  Du  verbrocheii  ?^ 


JoHANN  Heermann,  1630  (Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  108).  Translated  by  F.  E. 
Cox,  1841.  Based  upon  the  seventh  Meditation  of  St.  Augustine  (d.  430).  Comp. 
Mark  xv.  14,  "  What  evil  hath  He  done  ?  "  and  Isa.  liii.  s>  "  He  was  wounded  for  our 
transgressions,  He  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities."  Another  excellent  translation,  by  C. 
WiNKWORTH,  "Alas  1  dear  Lord,  what  evil  hast  Thou  done?  "  (Lyra  Germ.,  I.  p.  77). 


TT  THAT   laws,  my  blessed  Saviour,  hast  Thou 

'  broken. 

That  so  severe  a  sentence  should  be  spoken? 
How  hast  Thou  'gainst  Thy  Father's  will  contended, 
In  what  offended? 


With   scourges,   blows,   and    spitting,   they  reviled 

Thee  : 
They  crowned  Thy  brow  with  thorns,  while  King 

they  styled  Thee ; 
When,  faint  with  pains.  Thy  tortured  body  suffered, 
Then  gall  they  offered. 

Say !    wherefore   thus    by   woes   wast    Thou    sur- 
rounded? 
Ah !  Lord,  for  m}^  transgressions  Thou  wast  wounded : 
God  took  the  guilt  from  me,  who  should  have  paid  it ; 
On  Thee  He  laid  it. 


172 


THE    PASSION. 


How  strange  and  marvellous  was  this  correction  ! 
Falls  the  good  Shepherd  in  His  sheep's  protection ; 
The  servants'  debt  behold  the  Master  paying, 
For  them  obeying. 

The  righteous   dies,  who  walked  with   God   true- 
hearted  : 
The  sinner  lives,  who  has  from  God  departed; 
By  man  came  death,  yet  man  its  fetters  breaketh; 
God  it  o'ertaketh. 

Shame  and  iniquity  had  whelmed  me  over : 
From  head  to  foot  no  good  couldst  Thou  discover ; 
For  this  in  hell  should  I,  with  deep  lamenting, 
Be  aye  repenting. 

But  oh  !  the  depth  of  love  beyond  comparing, 
That  brought  Thee  down  from  heaven,  our  burden 

bearing ! 
I  taste  all  peace  and  joy  that  life  can  offer, 
Whilst  Thou  must  suffer  ! 


Eternal  King  !  in  power  and  love  excelling, 

Fain  would  my  heart   and    mouth   Thy  praise    be 

telling ; 
But  how  can  man's  weak  powers  at  all  come  nigh 

Thee, 
How  magnify  Thee? 


WHAT    LAWS,    MY    BLESSED    SAVIOUR?  1 73 

Such  wondrous  love  would  baffle  my  endeavor 
To  find  its  equal,  should  I  strive  for  ever : 
How  should  my  works,  could  I  m  all  obey  Thee, 
Ever  repay  Thee ! 

Yet  this  shall  please  Thee,  if  devoutly  trying 
To  keep  Thy  laws,  mine  own  wrong  will  denying, 
I  watch  my  heart,  lest  sin  again  ensnare  it 
And  from  Thee  tear  it. 

But  since  I  have  not  strength  to  flee  temptation, 
To  crucify  each  sinful  inclination. 
Oh !    let   Thy  Spirit,  grace,  and   strength   provide 
me, 
And  gently  guide  me. 

Then  shall  I  see  Thy  grace,  and  duly  prize  it, 
For  Thee  renounce  the  world,  for  Thee  despise  it ; 
Then  of  my  life  Thy  laws  shall  be  the  measure. 
Thy  will  my  pleasure. 

For  Thee,  my  God,  I'll  bear  all  griefs  and  losses : 
No  persecution,  no  disgrace  or  crosses. 
No  pains  of  death  or  tortures  e'er  shall  move  me, 
Howe'er  they  prove  me. 

This,  though  at  little  value  Thou  dost  set  it. 
Yet  Thou,  O  gracious  Lord  !  wilt  not  forget  it ; 
E'en  this  Thou  wilt  accept  with  grace  and  favor, 
My  blessed  Saviour. 


r 


174  "^^^    PASSION. 

And  when,  O  Christ !  before  Thy  throne  so  glorious, 
Upon  my  head  is  placed  the  crown  victorious, 
Thy  praise  I  will,  while  heaven's  full  choir  is  ring- 
ing, 
Be  ever  singing. 


O  WORLD!    BEHOLD  UPON  THE 
TREE. 

(O  Welt,  sieh  hier  dein  Leben.') 


From  the  German  of  Paui-  Gerhardt  (1653),  by  C.  Winkworth  {Lyra  Germ., 
II.  p.  52;  ScHAFF,  No.  113). 


r\  WORLD  !  behold  upon  the  tree 
^^  Thy  Life  is  hanging  now  for  thee, 

Thy  Saviour  yields  His  dying  breath ; 
The  mighty  Prince  of  glory  now 
For  thee  doth  unresisting  bow 

To  cruel  stripes,  to  scorn  and  death. 

Draw  near,  O  world  I  and  mark  Him  well ; 
Behold  the  drops  of  blood  that  tell 

How  sore  His  conflict  with  the  foe  : 
And  hark  !  how  from  that  noble  heart 
Sigh  after  sigh  doth  slowly  start. 

From  depths  of  yet  unfathomed  woe. 


Z) 


O    WORLD  !    BEHOLD    UPON   THE    TREE.  I75 

Alas  !  my  Saviour,  who  could  dare 
Bid  Thee  such  bitter  anguish  bear, 

What  evil  heart  entreat  Thee  thus? 
For  Thou  art  good,  hast  wronged  none. 
As  we  and  ours  too  oft  have  done  : 

Thou  hast  not  sinned,  dear  Lord,  like  us. 

I  and  my  sins,  that  number  more 
Than  yonder  sands  upon  the  shore. 

Have  brought  to  pass  this  agony. 
'Tis  I  have  caused  the  floods  of  woe 
That  now  Thy  dying  soul  o'erflow. 

And  those  sad  hearts  that  watch  by  Thee. 

'Tis  I  to  whom  these  pains  belong, 
'Tis  I  should  suffer  for  my  wrong, 

Bound  hand  and  foot  in  heavy  chains ; 
Thy  scourge,  Thy  fetters,  whatsoe'er 
Thou  bearest,  'tis  my  soul  should  bear. 

For  she  hath  well  deserved  such  pains. 

Yet  Thou  dost  even  for  my  sake 
On  Thee,  in  love,  the  burdens  take. 

That  weighed  my  spirit  to  the  ground. 
Yes  :  Thou  art  made  a  curse  for  me. 
That  I  might  yet  be  blest  through  Thee  : 

My  healing  in  Thy  wounds  is  found. 

To  save  me  from  the  monster's  power. 
The  Death  that  all  things  would  devour, 


1^6  THE    PASSION. 

Thyself  into  his  jaws  dost  leap : 
My  death  Thou  takest  thus  away, 
And  buriest  in  Thy  grave  for  aye  ; 

O  love  most  strangely  true  and  deep  ! 

From  henceforth  there  is  nought  of  mine 
But  I  would  seek  to  make  it  Thine, 

Since  all  myself  to  Thee  I  owe. 
Whate'er  my  utmost  powers  can  do, 
To  Thee  to  render  service  true. 

Here  at  Thy  feet  I  lay  it  low. 

Ah  !  little  have  I,  Lord,  to  give, 
So  poor,  so  base  the  life  I  live  ; 

But  yet,  till  soul  and  body  part. 
This  one  thing  I  will  do  for  Thee,  — 
The  woe,  the  death  endured  for  me, 

I'll  cherish  in  my  inmost  heart. 

Thy  cross  shall  be  before  my  sight. 
My  hope,  my  joy  by  day  and  night, 

Whate'er  I  do,  where'er  I  rove  ; 
And,  gazing,  I  will  gather  thence 
The  form  of  spotless  innocence. 

The  seal  of  faultless  truth  and  love. 

And  from  Thy  sorrows  will  I  learn 
How  fiercely  doth  God's  anger  burn. 
How  terribly  His  thunders  roll ; 


O   WORLD  1    BEHOLD    UPON    THE    TREE.  1 77 

How  sorely  this  our  loving  God 
Can  smite  with  His  avenging  rod, 

How  deep  His  floods  o'erwhelm  the  soul. 

And  I  will  study  to  adorn 

My  heart  with  meekness  under  scorn, 

With  gentle  patience  in  distress  ; 
With  faithful  love  that  yearning  cleaves 
To  those  o'er  whom  to  death  it  grieves, 

Whose  sins  its  very  soul  oppress. 

When  evil  tongues  with  stinging  blame 
Would  cast  dishonor  on  my  name, 

I'll  curb  the  passions  that  upstart ; 
And  take  injustice  patiently, 
And  pardon,  as  Thou  pardon'st  me, 

With  an  ungrudging  generous  heart. 

And  I  will  nail  me  to  Thy  cross. 
And  learn  to  count  all  things  but  dross 

Wherein  the  flesh  doth  pleasure  take : 
Whate'er  is  hateful  in  Thine  eyes. 
With  all  the  strength  that  in  me  lies. 

Will  I  cast  from  me  and  forsake. 

Thy  heavy  groans,  Thy  bitter  sighs. 
The  tears  that  from  Thy  dying  eyes 

Were  shed  when  Thou  wast  sore  oppressed, 


D 


178 


THE    PASSION. 


Shall  be  with  me,  when  at  the  last 
Myself  on  Thee  I  wholly  cast, 
And  enter  with  Thee  into  rest. 


O  SACRED   HEAD!    NOW  WOUNDED. 

n/  (O  Haupt  voll  Blut  utid  Wundeu.) 

By  Paul  Gerhardt,  1656  (Schaff,  No.  109),  on  the  basis  of  St.  Bernard's 
"Salve,  caput  cruentatum,"  1153  (Daniel,  I.  232;  Wackernagel,  I.  124,  in  five 
stanzas,  often  lines  each:  comp.  the  version  on  p.  162).  Both  the  Latin  of  the  Catholic 
monk  and  the  German  of  the  Lutheran  pastor  are  conceived  in  the  spirit  of  deep 
repentance,  and  glowing  gratitude  to  Christ,  who  "  was  wounded  for  our  transgres- 
sions, and  bruised  for  our  iniquities."  Faithfully  reproduced  by  Dr.  James  W.  Alex- 
ander, a  Presbyterian  clergyman  of  New  York  (d.  1859),  for  Schaff's  Kirchen- 
freund,  1849,  and  since  introduced,  with  abridgments  and  changes,  into  several  Ameri- 
can hymn-books.  — This  classical  hymn  has  shown  an  imperishable  vitality  in  passing 
from  the  Latin  into  the  German,  and  from  the  German  into  the  English,  and  pro- 
claiming in  three  tongues,  and  in  the  name  of  three  confessions, — the  Catholic,  the 
Lutheran,  and  the  Reformed,  —  with  equal  effect,  the  dying  love  of  our  Saviour,  and 
our  boundless  indebtedness  to  him.  Other  English  versions  in  Moravian  and  Metho- 
dist H.  Bs.  ("  O  head  so  full  of  bruises  !  "),  by  C.  Winkworth,  ("  O  wounded  Head  1 
must  Thou  endure?  ")  and  by  Massie  (Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern,  No.  97). 


r\  SACRED  head  !  now  wounded, 

^^    With  grief  and  shame  weighed  down, 

Now  scornfully  surrounded 

With  thorns,  Thy  only  crown ; 
O  sacred  Head!  what  glory. 

What  bliss,  till  now  was  Thine  ! 
Yet,  though  despised  and  gory, 

I  joy  to  call  Thee  mine. 

O  noblest  brow,  and  dearest ! 
In  other  days  the  world 


D 


O    SACRED    HEAD  !    NOW    WOUNDED.  1 79 

All  feared  when  Thou  appearedst : 
What  shame  on  Thee  is  hurled ! 

How  art  Thou  pale  with  anguish, 
With  sore  abuse  and  scorn  ; 

How  does  that  visage  languish, 
Which  once  was  bright  as  morn  ! 

The  blushes  late  residing 

Upon  that  holy  cheek, 
The  roses  once  abiding 

Upon  those  lips  so  meek, 
Alas  !  they  have  departed  ; 

Wan  Death  has  rifled  all ! 
For  weak  and  broken-hearted, 

I  see  Thy  body  fall. 

What  Thou,  my  Lord,  hast  suffered, 

Was  all  for  sinners'  gain : 
'  Mine,  mine,  was  the  transgression,  [ 

But  Thine  the  deadly  pain. 
Lo  !  here  I  fall,  my  Saviour  : 

'Tis  I  deserve  Thy  place ; 
Look  on  me  with  Thy  favor, 

Vouchsafe  to  me  Thy  grace. 

Receive  me,  my  Redeemer : 
My  Shepherd,  make  me  Thine; 

Of  every  good  the  fountain, 
Thou  art  the  spring  of  mine. 


D 


l8o  THE   PASSION. 

Thy  lips  with  love  distilling, 
And  milk  of  truth  sincere, 

With  heaven's  bliss  are  filling 
The  soul  that  trembles  here. 

Beside  Thee,  Lord,  I've  taken 

My  place  —  forbid  me  not ! 
Hence  will  I  ne'er  be  shaken. 

Though  Thou  to  death  be  brought. 
If  pain's  last  paleness  hold  Thee, 

In  agony  opprest. 
Then,  then,  will  I  enfold  Thee 

Within  this  arm  and  breast  I 

The  joy  can  ne'er  be  spoken, 

Above  all  joys  beside, 
When  in  Thy  body  broken 

I  thus  with  safety  hide. 
My  Lord  of  life,  desiring 

Thy  glory  now  to  see. 
Beside  the  cross  expiring, 

I'd  breathe  my  soul  to  Thee. 

What  language  shall  I  borrow 
To  thank  Thee,  dearest  Friend, 

For  this,  Thy  dying  sorrow. 
Thy  pity  without  end  ! 

O  make  me  Thine  for  ever ; 
And  should  I  fainting  be. 


3 


O    SACRED    HEAD  !    NOW   WOUNDED.  l8l 

Lord,  let  me  never,  never 
Outlive  my  love  to  Thee. 

And  when  I  am  departing, 

O  part  not  Thou  from  me  ! 
When  mortal  pangs  are  darting, 

Come,  Lord,  and  set  me  free  ! 
And  when  my  heart  must  languish 

Amidst  the  final  throe. 
Release  me  from  mine  anguish 

By  Thine  own  pain  and  woe  I  ^ 

Be  near  me  when  I'm  dying, 

Oh  !  show  Thy  cross  to  me ; 
And  for  my  succor  flying, 

Come,  Lord,  and  set  me  free  I 
These  eyes  new  faith  receiving    / 

From  Jesus  shall  not  move  ;   / 
For  he,  who  dies  believing, 

Dies  safely  through  Thy  love.X 

1  This  verse,  which  is  admirably  rendered  from  the  German,  — 

"  Wann  ich  einmal  sol]  scheiden 
So  scheide  nicht  von  mir,"  &c., — 

is  a  gem,  and  well  worthy  to  be  the  last  suspirium  of  a  dying  Chris- 
tian. In  several  American  collections  it  is  arbitrarily  changed 
or  omitted  altogether.  The  sainted  Dr.  Alexander,  in  transmit- 
ting to  me  his  translation  from  Princeton,  in  1S49,  g^ve  me  a 
touching  account  of  a  poor  German  laborer  who,  on  his  death-bed 
in  a  foreign  land,  found  his  last  strength  and  comfort  in  this 
verse,  which  he  had  committed  to  memory,  in  early  youth,  in  his 
fatherland. 


1 82  THE    PASSION. 


O  SACRED   HEAD,   SURROUNDED. 

{O  Haupt  voll  Blut  und  Wunden.) 


Another  version  of  Gerhardt's  hymn,  abridged.     From  Hymns  Ancient  and 
Modem,  No.  97. 


r\  SACRED  Head,  surrounded 
^^    By  crown  of  piercing  thorn  ! 

0  bleeding  Head,  so  wounded, 
Reviled,  and  put  to  scorn  ! 

Death's  pallid  hue  comes  o'er  Thee, 
The  glow  of  life  decays, 

Yet  angel-hosts  adore  Thee, 
And  tremble  as  they  gaze. 

1  see  Thy  strength  and  vigor 

All  fading  in  the  strife, 
And  death  with  cruel  rigor 

Bereaving  Thee  of  life ; 
O  agony  and  dying ! 

O  love  to  sinners  free  ! 
Jesu,  all  grace  supplying, 

O  turn  Thy  Face  on  me  ! 

In  this  Thy  bitter  passion, 

Good  Shepherd,  think  of  me. 


c: 


CHRIST,    THE    LIFE    OF   ALL    THE    LIVING.       1 83 

With  Thy  most  sweet  compassion, 

Unworthy  though  I  be  : 
Beneath  Thy  Cross  abiding, 

For  ever  would  I  rest ; 
In  Thy  dear  love  confiding, 

And  with  Thy  presence  blest. 


CHRIST,  THE  LIFE  OF  ALL  THE  LIVING. 

(jyesu,  metnes  Lebens  Leben^ 


From  the  German  of  Ernst  Christoph  Homburg,  1659:  "  Jesu,  meines  Lebens 
Leben,  Jesu,  meines  Todes  Tod"  (Schaff,  No.   122;   Choral  Book  for  England, 

XS62), 


/^HRIST,  the  Life  of  all  the  living, 
^-^    Christ,  the  Death  of  death,  our  foe, 
Who  Thyself  for  me  once  giving 
To  the  darkest  depths  of  woe, 
Patiently  didst  yield  Thy  breath 
But  to  save  my  soul  from  death  ; 
Thousand,  thousand  thanks  shall  be. 
Blessed  Jesus,  unto  Thee. 

Thou,  ah.  Thou,  hast  taken  on  Thee 

Bitter  strokes,  a  cruel  rod  ; 
Pain  and  scorn  were  heaped  upon  Thee, 

O  Thou  sinless  Son  of  God  ! 


% 


184  THE    PASSION. 

Only  thus  for  me  to  win 
Rescue  from  the  bonds  of  sin  ; 
Thousand,  thousand  thanks  shall  be, 
Blessed  Jesus,  unto  Thee. 

Thou  didst  bear  the  smiting  only 
That  it  might  not  fall  on  me  ; 

Stoodest  falsely  charged  and  lonely, 
That  I  might  be  safe  and  free  ; 
Comfortless,  that  I  might  know 
Comfort  from  Thy  boundless  woe  ; 
Thousand,  thousand  thanks  shall  be, 
Blessed  Jesus,  unto  Thee. 

Then  for  all  that  wrought  our  pardon. 
For  Thy  sorrows  deep  and  sore, 

For  Thine  anguish  in  the  garden, 
I  will  thank  Thee  evermore  ; 
Thank  Thee  with  my  latest  breath 
For  Thy  sad  and  cruel  death  ; 
For  that  last  and  bitter  cry, 
Praise  Thee  evermore  on  high. 


THOU    HOLIEST    LOVE,    WHOM    MOST    I    LOVE.      185 


THOU   HOLIEST   LOVE,  WHOM  MOST 
I   LOVE. 

(O  Du  Liebe  meiner  LiebeS) 


From  the  German  by  an  anonymous  author,  first  published  in  Freylinghausen's 
Gesangbuch,  Halle,  1704  (Schaff,  No.  124).  Translated  by  Catherine  Wink- 
worth  (who,  with  many  others,  erroneously  attributes  this  hymn  to  Angelus  Silesius). 


'T^HOU  Holiest  Love,  whom  most  I  love, 

-^     Who  art  my  longed-for  only  bliss, 
Whom  tenderest  pity  erst  did  move 

To  fathom  woe  and  death's  abyss ; 
Thou  who  didst  suffer  for  my  good, 

And  die  my  guilty  debts  to  pay. 
Thou  Lamb  of  God,  whose  precious  blood 

Can  take  a  world's  misdeeds  away  ! 

Thou  who  didst  bear  the  agony 

That  made  e'en  Thy  strong  spirit  quail, 
Yet  ever  yearnest  still  for  me 

With  longing  love  that  ne'er  shall  fail,  — 
Twas  Thou  wast  willing,  Thou  alone, 

To  bear  the  righteous  wrath  of  God ; 
Thy  death  hath  stilled  it,  else  had  none 

Found  shelter  from  its  awful  load. 


r 


l86  THE    PASSION. 

O  Love  !  who  with  unflinching  heart 

Didst  bear  all  worst  disgrace  and  shame ; 
O  Love  !  who  'mid  the  keenest  smart 

Of  dying  pangs  wert  still  the  same ; 
Who  didst  Thy  changeless  virtue  prove 

E'en  with  Thy  latest  parting  breath, 
And  spakest  words  of  gentlest  love 

When  soul  and  body  sank  in  death  ! 

O  Love  !  through  sorrows  manifold 

Hast  Thou  betrothed  me  as  a  bride, 
By  ceaseless  gifts,  by  love  untold, 

Hast  bound  me  ever  to  Thy  side. 
Oh,  let  the  weary  ache,  the  smart, 

Of  life's  long  tale  of  pain  and  loss. 
Be  gently  stilled  within  my  heart 

At  thought  of  Thee  and  of  Thy  cross  ! 

0  Love  !  who  gav'st  Thy  life  for  me, 
And  won  an  everlasting  good 

Through  Thy  sore  anguish  on  the  tree, 
I  ever  think  upon  Thy  blood  ; 

1  ever  thank  Thy  sacred  wounds. 

Thou  wounded  Love,  Thou  Holiest ! 
But  most  when  life  is  near  its  bounds, 
And  in  Thy  bosom  safe  I  rest. 

O  Love  !  who  unto  death  hast  grieved 
For  this  cold  heart,  unworthy  Thine, 


WHElSr    I    SURVEY    THE    WONDROUS    CROSS.        187 

Whom  the  cold  grave  and  death  received, 
I  thank  Thee  for  that  grief  divine. 

I  give  Thee  thanks  that  Thou  didst  die 
To  win  eternal  life  for  me, 

To  bring  salvation  from  on  high  : 

Oh,  draw  me  up  through  love  to  Thee  ! 


WHEN  I  SURVEY  THE  WONDROUS 


X 


CROSS. 


Dr.  Isaac  Watts,  1709.  Glorying  in  the  cross.  Gal.  vi.  14.  One  of  the  noblest 
hymns  in  the  English  or  any  other  language,  and  truly  classical  in  expression.  The 
fourth  stanza  is  omitted  in  most  hymn-books. 


TT /"HEN  I  survey  the  wondrous  cross 

'  '      On  which  the  Prince  of  glory  died. 
My  richest  gain  1  count  but  loss. 
And  pour  contempt  on  all  my  pride. 

Forbid  it,  Lord,  that  I  should  boast, 
Save  in  the  death  of  Christ,  my  God ! 
All  the  vain  things  that  charm  me  most, 
I  sacrifice  them  to  His  blood. 

See,  from  His  head,  His  hands.  His  feet, 
Sorrow  and  love  flow  mingled  down  ! 
Did  e'er  such  love  and  sorrow  meet? 
Or  thorns  compose  so  rich  a  crown? 


b 


1 88  THE   PASSION. 

His  dying  crimson,  like  a  robe, 
Spreads  o'er  His  body  on  the  tree ; 
Then  am  I  dead  to  all  the  globe, 
And  all  the  globe  is  dead  to  me. 

Were  the  whole  realm  of  nature  mine, 
That  were  a  present  far  too  small ; 
Love  so  amazing,  so  Divine, 
Demands  my  soul,  my  life,  my  all. 


NOT  ALL  THE  BLOOD   OF  BEASTS. 


Dr.  Isaac  Watts  (d.  1748).    "  Faith  in  Christ  our  sacrifice.' 


IVrOT  all  the  blood  of  beasts 

^    On  Jewish  altars  slain, 
Could  give  the  guilty  conscience  peace, 

Or  wash  away  the  stain. 

But  Christ,  the  heavenly  Lamb, 
Takes  all  our  sins  away, 
A  sacrifice  of  nobler  name. 
And  richer  blood,  than  they. 

My  faith  would  lay  her  hand 
On  that  dear  head  of  Thine, 
While  like  a  penitent  I  stand. 
And  there  confess  my  sin. 


a 


HIM  ON  YONDER  CROSS  I  LOVE.       189 

My  soul  looks  back  to  see 
The  burdens  Thou  didst  bear 
When  hanging  on  the  cursed  tree, 
And  hopes  her  guilt  was  there. 

Believing,  we  rejoice 
To  see  the  curse  remove  ; 
We  bless  the  Lamb  with  cheerful  voice, 
And  sing  His  bleeding  love. 


HIM  ON  YONDER  CROSS  I  LOVE. 


From  the  German  of  J.  E.  Greding,  1723,  by  Catherine  Winkworth,  II.  57. 
The  German  begins  with  the  beautiful  lines:  — 

"  Der  am  Kreuz  ist  meine  Liebe, 
Und  sonst  nichts  auf  dieser  Welt  I 
O  dass  Er's  doch  ewig  bliebe, 
Der  mir  jetzt  so  wohl  gefallt  I " 

It  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  a  similar  hymn  of  John  Mentzer  (1670) :  — 

"  Der  am  Kreuz  ist  meine  Liebe, 
Meine  Lieb'  ist  Jesus  Christ  1 
Weg,  ihr  argen  Seelendiebe, 
Satan,  Welt  und  Fleischeslist  I " 

Both  in  Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  Nos.  125  and  126. 


T  TIM  on  yonder  cross  I  love  ; 

-'-  -^    Nought  on  earth  I  else  count  dear ! 

May  He  mine  for  ever  prove, 

Who  is  now  so  inly  near ! 

Here  I  stand  :  whate'er  may  come. 

Days  of  sunshine  or  of  gloom, 

From  this  word  I  will  not  move  : 

Him  upon  the  cross  I  love  ! 


u 


ICJO  THE    PASSION. 

'Tis  not  hidden  from  my  heart, 
What  true  love  must  often  bring ; 
Want  and  grief  have  sorest  smart, 
Care  and  scorn  can  sharply  sting ; 
Nay,  but  if  Thy  will  were  such, 
Bitterest  death  were  not  too  much  ! 
Dark  though  here  my  course  may  prove, 
Him  upon  the  cross  I  love ! 

Rather  sorrows  such  as  these, 
Rather  love's  acutest  pain. 
Than  without  Him  days  of  ease, 
Riches  false  and  honors  vain. 
Count  me  strange,  when  I  am  true. 
What  He  hates  I  will  not  do ; 
Sneers  no  more  my  heart  can  move : 
Him  upon  the  cross  I  love  ! 

Know  ye  whence  my  strength  is  drawn, 
Fearless  thus  the  fight  to  wage? 
Why  my  heart  can  laugh  to  scorn 
Fleshly  weakness,  Satan's  rage? 
'Tis,  I  know,  the  love  of  Christ : 
Mighty  is  that  love  unpriced  ! 
What  can  grieve  me,  what  can  move? 
Him  upon  the  cross  I  love ! 

Once  the  eyes  that  now  are  dim, 
Shall  discern  the  changeless  love 


JESUS,  THY  BLOOD  AND  RIGHTEOUSNESS.        I9I 

That  hath  led  us  home  to  Him, 
That  hath  crowned  us  far  above  : 
Would  to  God  that  all  below 
What  that  love  is  now  might  know  ! 
And  their  hearts  this  word  approve  : 
Him  upon  the  cross  I  love  ! 


JESUS,  THY  BLOOD   AND   RIGHTEOUS- 
NESS. 

{Christi  Bliit  und  Gerechtigkeit.^ 


Count  Nic.  LuDWiG  von  Zinzendorf,  1739.  Originally  thirty  stanzas  (complete 
in  A.  Knapp's  edition  of  Zinzendorf 's  Spiritual  Songs,  Stuttgart,  1S45,  p.  135; 
abridged  in  Schaff,  G.  H.  B.,  No.  291).     Freely  reproduced  by  John  Wesley,  1740. 


TESUS,  Thy  Blood  and  Righteousness 
*^     My  beauty  are,  my  glorious  dress  ; 
'Midst  flaming  worlds,  in  these  arrayed, 
With  joy  shall  I  lift  up  my  head.^ 

Bold  shall  I  stand  in  Thy  great  day, 
For  who  aught  to  my  charge  shall  lay? 
Fully  absolved  through  these  I  am, 
From  sin  and  fear,  from  guilt  and  shame. 


1  The  first  stanza  — which  is  literally  borrowed  from  an  older 
German  hymn  of  P  Eber  (1569)  —is  very  popular  among  Ger- 
man Christians,  and  often  quoted  at  death-beds  :  — 
"Christ!  Blut  und  Gerechtigkeit : 
Das  ist  mein  Schmuck  und  Ehrenkleid  ; 
Damit  werd  ich  vor  Gott  bestehn, 
Wann  ich  zum  Himmel  werd  eingehn." 


:~) 


u 


192  THE    PASSION. 

The  holy,  meek,  unspotted  Lamb, 
Who  from  the  Father's  bosom  came, 
Who  died  for  me,  e'en  me  to  atone, 
Now  for  my  Lord  and  God  I  own. 

Lord,  I  believe  Thy  precious  blood. 
Which  at  the  mercy-seat  of  God 
For  ever  doth  for  sinners  plead. 
For  me  —  e'en  for  my  soul  —  was  shed. 

Lord,  I  believe  were  sinners  more 
Than  sands  upon  the  ocean  shore, 
Thou  hast  for  all  a  ransom  paid, 
For  all  a  full  atonement  made. 

When  from  the  dust  of  death  I  rise 
To  claim  my  mansion  in  the  skies, 
E'en  then,  this  shall  be  all  my  plea : 
Jesus  hath  lived,  hath  died  for  me. 

Thus  Abraham,  the  Friend  of  God, 
Thus  all  heaven's  armies  bought  with  blood. 
Saviour  of  sinners.  Thee  proclaim  ; 
Sinners  of  whom  the  chief  I  am. 

Jesus,  be  endless  praise  to  Thee, 
Whose  boundless  mercy  hath  for  me. 
For  me,  and  all  Thy  hands  have  made, 
An  everlasting  ransom  paid. 


cfl 


SWEET  THE  MOMENTS,  RICH  IN  BLESSING.      1 93 

Ah  !  give  to  all  Thy  servants,  Lord, 
With  power  to  speak  Thy  gracious  word ; 
That  all  who  to  Thy  wounds  will  flee. 
May  find  eternal  life  in  Thee. 

Thou,  God  of  power,  Thou,  God  of  love, 
Let  the  whole  world  Thy  mercy  prove  ! 
Now  let  Thy  word  o'er  all  prevail ; 
Now  take  the  spoils  of  death  and  hell. 


SWEET  THE  MOMENTS,   RICH   IN 
BLESSING. 
Y  ;_ 

Rev.  Walter  Shirley,  1723-1786.  This  hymn  first  appeared,  1774,  in  Lady 
Huntingdon's  Hymn-Book,  which  he  revised.  It  is  an  older  hymn  of  Rev.  James 
Allen,  popularized.  It  found  its  way,  with  two  or  three  other  Protestant  hymns,  into 
the  Lyra  Catkolica  (under  the  heading  "  Sub  Cruce  Christi ").  Much  altered  in  the 
Andover  and  other  hymn-books. 

OWEET  the  moments,  rich  in  blessing, 
^-^    Which  before  the  cross  I  spend  ; 
Life  and  health  and  peace  possessing, 

From  the  sinner's  dying  Friend. 
Here  I'll  sit,  for  ever  viewing 

Mercy's  streams  in  streams  of  blood  : 
Precious  drops,  my  soul  bedewing, 

Plead  and  claim  my  peace  with  God. 
13 


194 


THE    PASSION. 


Truly  blessed  is  this  station, 

Low  before  His  cross  to  lie  ; 
While  I  see  Divine  compassion 

Floating  in  His  languid  eye. 
Here  it  is  I  find  my  heaven, 

While  upon  the  Lamb  I  gaze  ; 
Love  I  much?  I've  much  forgiven, — 

I'm  a  miracle  of  grace. 

Love  and  grief  my  heart  dividing, 

With  my  tears  His  feet  I'll  bathe ; 
Constant  still,  in  faith  abiding. 

Life  deriving  from  His  death. 
May  I  still  enjoy  this  feeling, 

In  all  need  to  Jesus  go  ; 
Prove  His  v^ounds  each  day  more  healing, 

And  Himself  most  deeply  know  ! 


SURELY  CHRIST   THY  GRIEFS   HAS 
BORNE. 


Rev.  Aug.  M.  Toplady  (d.  1776).    Isa.  liii.  4,  5,  12. 


OURELY  Christ  thy  griefs  has  borne  ; 
"^    Weeping  soul,  no  longer  mourn  : 
View  Him  bleeding  on  the  tree, 
Pouring  out  His  life  for  thee  ; 
There  thy  every  sin  He  bore  ; 
Weeping  soul,  lament  no  more. 


U 


: 

> 

■-) 

M 

c 

I 


SURELY  CHRIST  THY  GRIEFS  HAS  BORNE.       I95 

All  thy  crimes  on  Him  were  laid  : 
See,  upon  His  blameless  head 
Wrath  its  utmost  vengeance  pours, 
Due  to  my  offence  and  yours ; 
Wounded  in  our  stead  He  is. 
Bruised  for  our  iniquities. 

Weary  sinner,  keep  thine  eyes 

On  th'  atoning  sacrifice  ; 

There  th'  incarnate  Deity, 

Numbered  with  transgressors,  see  ; 

There,  his  Father's  absence  mourns, 

Nailed  and  bruised,  and  crowned  with  thorns. 

See  thy  God  His  head  bow  down. 
Hear  the  Man  of  Sorrows  groan  ! 
For  thy  ransom  there  condemned. 
Stripped,  derided,  and  blasphemed  ; 
Bleed  the  guiltless  for  th'  unclean. 
Made  an  offering  for  thy  sin. 

Cast  thy  guilty  soul  on  Him, 
Find  Him  mighty  to  redeem ; 
At  His  feet  thy  burden  lay. 
Look  thy  doubts  and  cares  away ; 
Now  by  faith  the  Son  embrace. 
Plead  His  promise,  trust  His  grace. 

Lord,  Thine  arm  must  be  revealed, 
Ere  I  can  by  faith  be  healed ; 


196  THE    PASSION. 

Since  I  scarce  can  look  to  Thee, 
Cast  a  gracious  eye  on  me  : 
At  Thy  feet  myself  I  lay  ; 
Shine,  O  shine,  my  fears  away ! 


THERE  IS   A  FOUNTAIN  FILLED 

WITH   BLOOD. 
Y 


William  Cowper  (1731-1800).  From  the  Olney  Hymns,  1779,  No.  79 :  "  Praise, 
for  the  Fountain  opened."  Zech.  xiii.  i.  This  hymn,  drawn  from  the  fountain  of 
atoning  blood,  "opened  to  the  house  of  David  and  to  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem,  for 
sin  and  for  uncleanness,"  is  itself  a  fountain  of  comfort  and  peace.  The  last  two 
stanzas  are  omitted  in  most  hymn-books. 


n^HERE  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood 

Drawn  from  Immanuel's  veins, 
And  sinners  plunged  beneath  that  flood 
Lose  all  their  guilty  stains. 

The  dying  thief  rejoiced  to  see 

That  fountain  in  his  day ; 
And  there  have  I,  as  vile  as  he, 

Washed  all  my  sins  away. 

Dear  dying  Lamb,  Thy  precious  blood 

Shall  never  lose  its  power. 
Till  all  the  ransomed  church  of  God 

Be  saved,  to  sin  no  more. 


THERE  IS  A  FOUNTAIN  FILLED  WITH  BLOOD.       I97 

E'er  since,  by  faith,  I  saw  the  stream 

Thy  flowing  wounds  supply, 
Redeeming  love  has  been  my  theme, 

And  shall  be  till  I  die. 

Then,  in  a  nobler,  sweeter  song, 

I'll  sing  thy  power  to  save. 
When  this  poor  lisping,  stammering  tongue 

Lies  silent  in  the  grave. 

Lord,  I  believe  Thou  hast  prepared 

(Unworthy  though  I  be) 
For  me  a  blood-bought,  free  reward, 

A  golden  harp  for  me  ! 

'Tis  strung  and  tuned  for  endless  years, 

And  formed  by  power  Divine, 
To  sound  in  God  the  Father's  ears 

No  other  name  but  Thine. 


198  THE    PASSION. 


HARK!   THE  VOICE   OF  LOVE  AND 
MERCY. 


"Finished  Redemption."  By  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Evans  (1749-1799).  First 
published  in  Ripon's  Selection,  1787.  The  authorship  of  this  hymn  is  not  quite  cer- 
tain.    See  the  note  in  Rogers's  Lyra  Brit.,  p.  677. 


T  TARK  !  the  voice  of  love  and  mercy 

Sounds  aloud  from  Calvary ; 
See  !  it  rends  the  rocks  asunder, 

Shakes  the  earth,  and  veils  the  sky  : 

"  It  is  finished  !  " 
Hear  the  dying  Saviour  cry. 

"  It  is  finished  !  "  O  what  pleasure 
Do  these  charming  words  afford  ! 

Heavenly  blessings,  without  measure, 
Flow  to  us  fi^om  Christ,  the  Lord : 

"  It  is  finished  !  " 
Saints,  the  dying  words  record. 

Finished  all  the  types  and  shadows 

Of  the  ceremonial  law ; 
Finished  all  that  God  had  promised, 

Death  and  hell  no  more  shall  awe : 
"  It  is  finished  ! " 

Saints,  from  hence  your  comfort  draw. 


ci: 


IN    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST    I    GLORY.  I99 

Happy  souls,  approach  the  table, 

Taste  the  soul-reviving  food  ; 
Nothing  half  so  sweet  and  pleasant 

As  the  Saviour's  flesh  and  blood  : 
"  It  is  finished  !  " 

Christ  has  borne  the  heavy  load. 

Tune  your  harps  anew,  ye  seraphs ; 

Join  to  sing  the  pleasing  theme ; 
All  on  earth,  and  all  in  heaven, 

Join  to  praise  Immanuel's  name  ! 
Hallelujah  ! 

Glory  to  the  bleeding  Lamb  ! 


IN  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST  I  GLORY. 


"  The  Cross  of  Christ."  By  Sir  John  Bowring,  LL.D.,  a  distinguished  diplo- 
matist and  colonial  governor  (b.  1792),  author  of  several  important  works  of  travel  and 
on  politics ;  and  of  a  volume  of  excellent  hymns,  published  in  1823. 

TN  the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory,        3.^ww'-^  ^^"i^ 
-^    Towering  o'er  the  wrecks  of  time ; 
All  the  light  of  sacred  story 
Gathers  round  its  head  sublime. 

When  the  woes  of  life  o'ertake  me, 

Hopes  deceive,  and  fears  annoy. 
Never  shall  the  cross  forsake  me ; 

Lo  !  it  glows  with  peace  and  joy. 


:z) 


20P  THE   PASSION. 

When  the  sun  of  bhss  is  beaming 
Light  and  love  upon  my  way, 

From  the  cross  the  radiance  streaming, 
Adds  more  lustre  to  the  day. 

Bane  and  blessing,  pain  and  pleasure, 
By  the  cross  are  sanctified  ; 

Peace  is  there  that  knows  no  measure ; 
Joys  that  through  all  time  abide. 

In  the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory, 

Towering  o'er  the  wrecks  of  time  ; 

All  the  light  of  sacred  story 

Gathers  round  its  head  sublime. 


WE   SING  THE  PRAISE   OF   HIM  WHO 
DIED. 


Rev.  Thomas  Kelly,  1769-1855. 


"XT  7E  sing  the  praise  of  Him  who  died, 
'  '     Of  Him  who  died  upon  the  cross  : 
The  sinner's  hope  let  men  deride  ; 
For  this  we  count  the  world  but  loss. 


WE    SING    THE    PRAISE    OF    HIM    WHO    DIED.       20I 

Inscribed  upon  the  cross  we  see 
The  shining  letters  "  God  is  love  :  " 
He  bears  our  sins  upon  the  tree, 
He  brings  us  mercy  from  above. 

The  cross,  it  takes  our  guilt  away, 
It  holds  the  fainting  spirit  up  ; 
It  cheers  with  hope  the  gloomy  day. 
And  sweetens  every  bitter  cup. 

It  makes  the  coward  spirit  brave, 
And  nerves  the  feeble  arm  for  fight ; 
It  takes  its  terror  from  the  grave, 
And  gilds  the  bed  of  death  with  light. 

The  balm  of  life,  the  cure  of  woe. 
The  measure  and  the  pledge  of  love, 
The  sinner's  refuge  here  below, 
The  angels'  theme  in  heaven  above. 


202  THE   PASSION. 


COME  TO   CALVARY'S   HOLY  MOUN- 
TAIN. 


James  Montgomery  (born  1771 ;  died  at  Sheffield,  1854).    Zech.  xiii.  i:  "In 
that  day,  there  shall  be  a  Fountain  opened."  1819. 


/^^OME  to  Calvary's  holy  mountain, 

^-^    Sinners  ruined  by  the  fall ; 

Here  a  pure  and  healing  fountain 
Flows  to  you,  to  me,  to  all. 
In  a  full,  perpetual  tide. 
Opened  when  our  Saviour  died. 

Come  in  poverty  and  meanness, 
Come  defiled,  without,  within  ; 

From  infection  and  uncleanness, 
From  the  leprosy  of  sin. 
Wash  your  robes,  and  make  them  white  : 
Ye  shall  walk  with  God  in  light. 

Come,  in  sorrow  and  contrition, 
Wounded,  impotent,  and  blind  ; 

Here  the  guilty,  free  remission. 

Here  the  troubled,  peace  may  find  ; 
Health  this  fountain  will  restore, 
He  that  drinks  shall  thirst  no  more. 


r 


FLING    OUT    THE    BANNER  !     LET    IT    FLOAT.       203 

He  that  drinks  shall  live  for  ever ; 

'Tis  a  soul-renewing  flood  : 
God  is  faithful,  —  God  will  never 

Break  His  covenant  in  blood  ; 

Signed  when  our  Redeemer  died, 

Sealed  when  He  was  glorified. 


FLING  OUT  THE  BANNER!   LET  IT 
FLOAT. 


Bishop  G.  W.  DoANE.    Died  at  Burlington,  N.J.,  1859. 


"C^LING  out  the  Banner  !  let  it  float 

Skyward  and  seaward,  high  and  wide ; 
The  sun,  that  lights  its  shining  folds, 
The  Cross,  on  which  the  Saviour  died. 

Fling  out  the  Banner  !     Angels  bend. 
In  anxious  silence  o'er  the  sign  ; 
And  vainly  seek  to  comprehend 
The  wonder  of  the  love  divine. 

Fling  out  the  Banner  !     Heathen  lands 
Shall  see,  from  far,  the  glorious  sight ; 
And  nations,  crowding  to  be  born, 
Baptize  their  spirits  in  its  light. 


204  THE    PASSION. 

Fling  out  the  Banner  !     Sin-sick  souls, 
That  sink  and  perish  in  the  strife, 
Shall  touch  in  faith  its  radiant  hem, 
And  spring  immortal  into  life. 

Fling  out  the  Banner  !     Let  it  float 
Skyward  and  seaward,  high  and  wide ; 
Our  glory,  only  in  the  Cross, 
Our  only  hope,  the  Crucified. 

Fling  out  the  Banner  !     Wide  and  high, 
Seaward  and  skyward,  let  it  shine : 
Nor  skill,  nor  might,  nor  merit,  ours ; 
We  conquer  only  in  that  sign. 


WHEREFORE   WEEP   WE   OVER  JESUS? 

(  Weint  nickt  uber  jf^esu  ScJunerzen^ 


By  the  Rev.  Philip  Spitta,  died  iSsg.     Translated  by  Richard  Massie,  i860. 
"  Weep  not  for  me,  but  weep  for  yourselves."  —  Luke  xxiii.  28. 


^l/'HEREFORE  weep  we  over  Jesus, 

^  ^    O'er  His  death  and  bitter  smart? 
Weep  we  rather  that  He  sees  us 

Unconvinced  and  hard  of  heart ; 
For  His  soul  was  never  tainted 

With  the  smallest  spot  or  stain  : 
'Twas  for  us  He  was  acquainted 

With  such  depths  of  grief  and  pain. 


3                                                                                                                          <*     . 

n 

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1 

( 

WHEREFORE    WEEP   WE    OVER  JESUS?          205 

Oh  !  what  profits  it  with  groaning 

Underneath  His  cross  to  stand ; 
Oh  !  what  profits  our  bemoaning 

His  pale  brow  and  bleeding  hand? 
Wherefore  gaze  on  Him  expiring, 

Railed  at,  pierced,  and  crucified, 
Whilst  we  think  not  of  inquiring. 

Wherefore,  and  for  whom  He  died? 

If  no  sin  could  be  discovered 

In  the  pure  and  spotless  Lord, 
If  the  cruel  death  He  suffered 

Is  sin's  just  and  meet  reward  : 
Then  it  must  have  been  for  others 

That  the  Lord  on  Calvary  bled, 
And  the  guilt  have  been  a  brother's, 

Which  was  laid  upon  His  head. 

And  for  whom  hath  He  contended 

In  a  strife  so  strange  and  new? 
And  for  whom  to  hell  descended  ? 

Brothers  !  'twas  for  me  and  you  I 
Now  you  see  that  He  was  reaping 

Punishment  for  us  alone  ; 
And  we  have  great  cause  for  weeping, 

Not  for  His  guilt,  but  our  own. 

If  we  then  make  full  confession. 

Jf 

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Joined  with  penitence  and  prayer. 

> 

CI 

u 

2o6  THE    PASSION. 

If  we  see  our  own  transgression 
In  the  punishment  He  bare, 

If  we  mourn  with  true  repentance, 
We  shall  hear  the  Saviour  say, 

"  Fear  not :  I  have  borne  your  sentence  ; 
Wipe  your  bitter  tears  away." 


RIDE   ON,   RIDE   ON  IN  MAJESTY. 


Christ's  final  entrance  into  Jerusalem.  John  xii.  12-15.  By  the  Very  Rev.  Henry 
Hart  Milman,  D.D.  ;  b.  London,  1791 ;  since  1849,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's;  author  of 
"  History  of  Latin  Christianity,"  &c.  His  poetical  works  were  published  1839,  in 
3  vols.  i2mo.    He  died  Sept.  1868. 

"D  IDE  on,  ride  on  in  majesty  ! 

^  In  lowly  pomp  ride  on  to  die  : 
O  Christ !  Thy  triumphs  now  begin 
O'er  captive  death  and  conquered  sin. 

Ride  on,  ride  on  in  majesty ! 
The  winged  squadrons  of  the  sky 
Look  down,  with  sad  and  wondering  eyes, 
To  see  th'  approaching  sacrifice. 

Ride  on,  ride  on  in  majesty ! 
Thy  last  and  fiercest  strife  is  nigh  : 
The  Father,  on  His  sapphire  throne, 
Expects  His  own  anointed  Son. 


BOUND    UPON    THE    ACCURSED    TREE.  207 

Ride  on,  ride  on  in  majesty  ! 

In  lowly  pomp  ride  on  to  die  : 

Bow  Thy  meek  head  to  mortal  pain  ; 

Then  take,  O  God,  Thy  power,  and  reign  ! 


BOUND  UPON  THE  ACCURSED  TREE. 


Dr.  Henry  Hart  Milman,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  London;  d.  1868. 


71)  OUND  upon  th'  accursed  tree, 
■^-^   Faint  and  bleeding,  who  is  He? 
By  the  eyes  so  pale  and  dim, 
Streaming  blood,  and  writhing  limb  ; 
By  the  flesh,  with  scourges  torn ; 
By  the  crown  of  twisted  thorn ; 
By  the  side  so  deeply  pierced  ; 
By  the  baffled,  burning  thirst ; 
By  the  drooping  death-dewed  brow  : 
Son  of  Man,  'tis  Thou  !  'tis  Thou  ! 

Bound  upon  th'  accursed  tree. 
Dread  and  awful,  who  is  He? 
By  the  sun  at  noon-day  pale. 
Shivering  rocks,  and  rending  veil ; 
By  earth,  that  trembles  at  His  doom  : 
By  yonder  saints  who  burst  their  tomb ; 


2o8  THE    PASSION. 

By  Eden  promised,  ere  He  died, 
To  the  felon  at  His  side ; 
Lord,  our  suppliant  knees  we  bow : 
Son  of  God,  'tis  Thou  !  'tis  Thou  ! 

Bound  upon  th'  accursed  tree, 
Sad  and  dying,  who  is  He? 
By  the  last  and  bitter  cry ; 
The  ghost  given  up  in  agony  ; 
By  the  lifeless  body  laid 
In  the  chamber  of  the  dead ; 
By  the  mourners  come  to  weep 
Where  the  bones  of  Jesus  sleep  ; 
Crucified  !  we  know  Thee  now  : 
Son  of  Man,  'tis  Thou  !  'tis  Thou  ! 

Bound  upon  th'  accursed  tree, 
Dread  and  awful,  who  is  He? 
By  the  prayer  for  them  that  slew,  — 
"  Lord,  they  know  not  what  they  do  !  " 
By  the  spoiled  and  empty  grave ; 
By  the  souls  He  died  to  save ; 
By  the  conquest  He  hath  won ; 
By  the  saints  before  His  throne  ; 
By  the  rainbow  round  His  brow  ; 
Son  of  God,  'tis  Thou  !  'tis  Thou  ! 


tj 


ASK   YE    WHAT    GREAT    THING    I    KNOW.        2O9 


ASK  YE  WHAT  GREAT  THING  I  KNOW. 


Rev.  Dr.  Benjamin  Hall  Kennedy,  b.  1804;  Rector  of  West  Felton,  England. 


tJ 


A  SK  ye  what  great  thing  I  know 
-^"^   That  delights  and  stirs  me  so? 
What  the  high  reward  I  win? 
Whose  the  Name  I  glory  in? 

Jesus  Christ,  the  Crucified. 

What  is  faith's  foundation  strong? 
What  awakes  my  lips  to  song? 
He  who  bore  my  sinful  load 
Purchased  for  me  peace  with  God, 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Crucified. 

Who  is  He  that  makes  me  wise 
To  discern  where  duty  lies? 
Who  is  He  that  makes  me  true, 
Duty,  when  discerned,  to  do? 

Jesus  Christ,  the  Crucified. 

Who  defeats  my  fiercest  foes? 
Who  consoles  my  saddest  woes? 
Who  revives  my  fainting  heart. 
Healing  all  its  hidden  smart? 

Jesus  Christ,  the  Crucified. 


C" 


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ID 


ft 


2IO  THE    PASSION. 

Who  is  life  in  life  to  me? 
Who  the  death  of  death  will  be? 
Who  will  place  me  on  His  right, 
With  the  countless  hosts  of  light? 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Crucified. 

This  is  that  great  thing  I  know ; 
This  delights  and  stirs  me  so : 
Faith  in  Him  who  died  to  save, 
Him  who  triumphed  o'er  the  grave, 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Crucified. 


OPPRESSED  WITH  NOON-DAY'S 
SCORCHING   HEAT. 


"The  Shadow  of  the  Cross."     By  Horatius  Bonar,  D.D.,  Hymns  of  Faith 
and  Hope,  First  Series. 


/^PPRESSED  with  noon-day's  scorching  heat, 
^-^    To  yonder  cross  I  flee ; 
Beneath  its  shelter  take  my  seat ; 
No  shade  like  this  for  me  I 

Beneath  that  cross  clear  waters  burst, 

A  fountain  sparkling  free  ; 
And  there  I  quench  my  desert  thirst ; 

No  spring  like  this  for  me  ! 


c 


CLING   TO   THE    CRUCIFIED.  211 

A  stranger  here,  I  pitch  my  tent 

Beneath  this  spreading  tree  ; 
Here  shall  my  pilgrim  life  be  spent ; 

No  home  like  this  for  me  ! 

For  burdened  ones  a  resting-place, 

Beside  that  cross  I  see ; 
Here  I  cast  oft'  my  weariness ; 

No  rest  like  this  for  me  ! 


CLING  TO  THE  CRUCIFIED. 


'Abide  in  Him."     Horatius  Bonar,  D.D.  ;  b.  Edinburgh,  i8 


"  Tecum  volo  vulnerari 
Te  libenter  araplexari 
In  cruce  desidero." 

Old  Hymn. 

/^LING  to  the  Crucified ! 

^-^    His  death  is  life  to  thee,  — 

Life  for  eternity. 

His  pains  thy  pardon  seal ; 

His  stripes  thy  bruises  heal ; 

His  cross  proclaims  thy  peace, 

Bids  every  sorrow  cease. 

His  blood  is  all  to  thee  : 

It  purges  thee  from  sin ; 

It  sets  thy  spirit  free ; 

It  keeps  thy  conscience  clean. 

Cling  to  the  Crucified  ! 


212  THE    PASSION. 

Cling  to  the  Crucified  ! 
His  is  a  heart  of  love, 
Full  as  the  hearts  above  ; 
Its  depths  of  sympathy 
Are  all  awake  for  thee  : 
His  countenance  is  light, 
Even  to  the  darkest  night. 
That  love  shall  never  change  ; 
That  light  shall  ne'er  grow  dim 
Charge  thou  thy  faithless  heart 
To  find  its  all  in  Him. 
Cling  to  the  Crucified  ! 


I  LAY  MY  SINS   ON   JESUS. 


HoRATius   BoNAR,  D.D.     "The   Substitute."     From  the   First  Series  of  his 
Hymns  of  Faith  and  Hope, 


fa>i^  W  -VlrtW- 


"  Jefu,  plena  caritate 
I  0  M  n  Manus  tuae  perforatje 

\  I  Laxent  mea  crimina ; 

Latus  tuum  lanceatum, 
Caput  spinis  coronatum, 
Hasc  sint  medicamina." 

Old  Hymn. 

T  LAY  my  sins  on  Jesus, 
•^     The  spotless  Lamb  of  God  ; 
He  bears  them  all,  and  frees  us 
From  the  accursed  load. 


I    LAY    MY    SINS    ON  JESUS.  213 

I  bring  my  guilt  to  Jesus, 

To  wash  my  crimson  stains 
White  in  His  blood  most  precious, 

Till  not  a  stain  remains. 

I  lay  my  wants  on  Jesus ; 

All  fulness  dwells  in  Him : 
He  heals  all  my  diseases. 

He  doth  my  soul  redeem. 
I  lay  my  griefs  on  Jesus, 

My  burdens  and  my  cares  : 
He  from  them  all  releases, 

He  all  my  sorrows  shares. 

I  rest  my  soul  on  Jesus, 

This  weary  soul  of  mine : 
His  right  hand  me  embraces, 

I  on  His  breast  recline. 
I  love  the  name  of  Jesus, 

Immanuel,  Christ,  the  Lord: 
Like  fragrance  on  the  breezes, 

His  name  abroad  is  poured. 

I  long  to  be  like  Jesus, 

Meek,  loving,  lowly,  mild : 
I  long  to  be  like  Jesus, 

The  Father's  holy  Child. 
I  long  to  be  with  Jesus 

Amid  the  heavenly  throng. 
To  sing  with  saints  His  praises, 

To  learn  the  angel's  song. 


VJ 


214 


THE    PASSION. 


WOULDST  THOU   LEARN  THE  DEPTH 

OF  SIN? 


Gethsemane.    By  the  Rev.  John  S.  B.  Monsell,  LL.D.,  b.  1811,  one  of  the 
Rural  Deans  in  the  see  of  Winchester,  author  of  several  volumes  of  sacred  lyrics. 


U" 


'\1[7'0ULDST  thou  learn  the  depth  of  sin, 

^  '     All  its  bitterness  and  pain  ? 
What  it  cost  thy  God  to  win 
Sinners  to  Himself  again? 
Come,  poor  sinner,  come  with  me ; 
Visit  sad  Gethsemane. 

Wouldst  thou  know  God's  wondrous  love  ? 

Seek  it  not  beside  the  throne  ; 

List  not  angels'  praise  above, 

But  come  and  hear  the  heavy  groan 

By  the  Godhead  heaved  for  thee, 

Sinner,  in  Gethsemane. 

When  His  tears  and  bloody  sweat. 
When  His  passion  and  His  prayer. 
When  His  pangs  on  Olivet, 
Wake  within  thee  thoughts  of  care,  — 
Remember,  sinner,  'twas  for  thee 
He  suffered  in  Gethsemane  ! 


n 


c: 


MY   SINS,    MY   SINS,    MY   SAVIOUR  !  21$ 

Hate  the  sin  that  cost  so  dear ; 
Love  the  God  that  loved  thee  so  ; 
Weep  if  thou  wilt,  but  likewise  fear 
To  bid  that  fountain  freshly  flow. 
That  gushed  so  freely  once  for  thee 
In  sorrowful  Gethsemane. 


MY  SINS,   MY  SINS,   MY  SAVIOUR! 


John  S.  B.  Monsell,  LL.D.,  Vicar  of  Egham.  From  his  Hymns  of  Love  and 
Praise  for  the  ChurcKs  Year,  Lond.  1863.  For  Ash  Wednesday.  On  Ps.  xi.  15: 
"  My  sins  have  taken  such  hold  upon  me,  that  I  am  not  able  to  look  up  :  yea,  they  are 
more  in  number  than  the  hairs  of  my  head,  and  my  heart  hath  failed  me." 


ly /TY  sins,  my  sins,  my  Saviour  ! 
-'■'-^  They  take  such  hold  on  me, 
I  am  not  able  to  look  up, 

Save  only,  Christ,  to  Thee : 
In  Thee  is  all  forgiveness, 

In  Thee  abundant  grace. 
My  shadow  and  m}^  sunshine 

The  brightness  of  Thy  face. 

My  sins,  my  sins,  my  Saviour ! 

How  sad  on  Thee  they  fall ! 
Seen  through  Thy  gentle  patience, 

I  tenfold  feel  them  all. 


:z) 


2l6  THE    PASSION. 

I  know  they  are  forgiven  ; 

But  still,  their  pain  to  me 
Is  all  the  grief  and  anguish 

They  laid,  my  Lord,  on  Thee. 

My  sins,  my  sins,  my  Saviour  ! 

Their  guilt  I  never  knew. 
Till,  with  Thee,  in  the  desert 

I  near  Thy  passion  drew,  — 
Till,  with  Thee,  in  the  garden 

I  heard  Thy  pleading  prayer. 
And  saw  the  sweat-drops  bloody 

That  told  Thy  sorrow  there. 

Therefore  my  songs,  my  Saviour  ! 

E'en  in  this  time  of  woe. 
Shall  tell  of  all  Thy  goodness 

To  suffering  man  below,  — 
Thy  goodness  and  Thy  favor, 

Whose  presence  from  above, 
Rejoice  those  hearts,  my  Saviour, 

That  live  in  Thee,  and  love. 


JESUS  !    GENTLE    SUFFERER,    SAY.  2l7 


JESUS!   GENTLE   SUFFERER,   SAY. 


For  Good  Friday.  By  John  S.  B.  Monsell,  LL.D.,  Vicar  of  Egham,  bom 
1811.  From  his  Hymns  of  Love  and  Praise,  Lond.  1863,  p.  82.  The  Canterbury 
Hymnal  gives  this  hymn  with  abridgments  and  unnecessary  changes  ("  Jesu,  mighty 
Sufferer,  say,"  &c.)- 


JESUS  !  gentle  Sufferer,  say, 
^     How  shall  we  this  dreadful  day 
Near  Thee  draw,  and  to  Thee  pray  ? 

We,  whose  proneness  to  forget 

Thy  dear  love,  on  Olivet 

Bathed  Thy  brow  with  bloody  sweat ; 

We,  whose  sins,  with  awful  power. 
Like  a  cloud  did  o'er  Thee  lower. 
In  that  God-excluding  hour ; 

We,  who  still,  in  thought  and  deed, 

Often  hold  the  bitter  reed 

To  Thee,  in  Thy  time  of  need,  — 

Canst  Thou  pardon  us,  and  pray. 
As  for  those  who  on  this  day 
Took  Thy  precious  life  away  ? 

Yes  !  Thy  blood  is  all  my  plea  ; 
It  was  shed,  and  shed  for  me, 
Therefore  to  Thy  cross  I  flee 


2l8  THE    PASSION. 

At  Thy  feet,  in  dust  and  shame, 
I  dare  breathe  Thy  holy  name, 
And  a  great  salvation  claim. 

Save  me,  Jesus  :  stoop  and  take 

Pity  on  my  soul,  and  make 

This  day  bright,  for  Thy  dear  sake. 


THOU  WHO   DIDST  HANG  UPON  A 
BARREN  TREE. 


'Long  Barren."    By  Christina  G.  Rossetti,  1866  {Poems,  Boston  ed.,  p.  245). 


'TPHOU  w^ho  didst  hang  upon  a  barren  tree, 

-*■        My  God,  for  me  ; 
Though  I  till  now  be  barren,  now  at  length. 
Lord,  give  me  strength 
To  bring  forth  fruit  to  Thee. 

Thou  who  didst  bear  for  me  the  crown  of  thorn, 

Spitting  and  scorn ; 
Though  I  till  now  have  put  forth  thorns,  yet  now 

Strengthen  me  Thou, 
That  better  fruit  be  borne. 

Thou  Rose  of  Sharon,  Cedar  of  broad  roots, 

Vine  of  sweet  fruits, 
Thou  Lily  of  the  vale,  with  fadeless  leaf. 

Of  thousands  Chief, 
Feed  Thou  my  feeble  shoots. 


O  JESUS  I    SWEET    THE    TEARS    I    SHED.         219 


O  JESUS !   SWEET  THE  TEARS  I  SHED. 


"At  the  Cross."  "I  am  crucified  with  Christ."  —  Gal.  ii.  20.  Rev.  Dr.  Ray 
Palmer;  b.  1808,  in  the  State  of  Rhode  Island.  From  his  Hymns  of  my  Holy 
Hours,  New  York,  1867.     One  of  his  best  hymns. 


r\  JESUS  !  sweet  the  tears  I  shed, 
^-^    While  at  Thy  cross  I  kneel, 
Gaze  on  Thy  wounded,  fainting  head, 
And  all  Thy  sorrows  feel. 

My  heart  dissolves  to  see  Thee  bleed. 

This  heart  so  hard  before  ; 
I  hear  Thee  for  the  guilty  plead, 

And  grief  o'erflows  the  more. 

'Twas  for  the  sinful  Thou  didst  die, 

And  I  a  sinner  stand : 
What  love  speaks  from  Thy  dying  eye, 

And  from  each  pierced  hand  ! 

I  know  this  cleansing  blood  of  Thine 
Was  shed,  dear  Lord,  for  me,  — 

For  me,  for  all  —  O  grace  divine  I  — 
Who  look  by  faith  on  Thee. 

O  Christ  of  God  !  O  spotless  Lamb  I 

By  love  my  soul  is  drawn ; 
Henceforth,  for  ever,  Thine  I  am  ; 

Here  life  and  peace  are  born. 


:z) 


a 


220  THE    PASSION. 


In  patient  hope  the  cross  I'll  bear, 

Thine  arm  shall  be  my  stay  ; 
And  Thou,  enthroned,  my  soul  shalt  spare, 

On  Thy  great  judgment-day. 


WONDER  OF  WONDERS  !  ON  THE  CROSS. 


"The  Sacrifice."     A  sonnet,  by  Dr.  Rav  Palmer.     From  his  Hymns  arid  Sa- 
cred Pieces,  New  York,  1865. 


^T  70NDER  of  wonders  !     On  the  cross  He  dies  ! 
^  '     Man  of  the  ages,  David's  mighty  Son, 
The  Eternal  Word,  who  spake  and  it  was  done, 
What  time,  of  old.  He  formed  the  earth  and  skies. 

Abashed  be  all  the  wisdom  of  the  wise  ! 

Let  the  wide  earth  through  all  her  kingdoms  know 
The  promised  Lamb  of  God,  whose  blood  should 

flow,  — 
For  human  guilt  the  grand,  sole  sacrifice. 

No  more  need  altar  smoke,  nor  victim  bleed  : 
'Tis  finished  !  —  the  great  mystery  of  love. 
Ye  sin-condemned,  by  this  blood,  'tis  decreed. 

Ye  stand  absolved  :  behold  the  curse  remove  ! 

O  Christ !  Thy  deadly  wounds.  Thy  mortal  strife 
Crush  death  and  hell,  and  give  immortal  life ! 


O    HEAD,    SO   FULL    OF   BRUISES  !  221 


O  HEAD,  so  FULL   OF  BRUISES  ! 


"The  Crucifixion."    Joseph  Stammers,  born  1801,  barrister  in  London.     Con. 
tributed  to  Rogers's  Lyr.  Brit.,  1867,  p.  517. 


r\  HEAD,  so  full  of  bruises  ! 
^-^    Brow,  that  its  life-blood  loses  ! 

Oh  !  great  humility  ! 
Across  His  face  are  flying 
The  shadows  of  the  dying  : 

'Twas  suffered  all  for  me  ! 

O  Back,  by  scourges  ploughed  ! 
O  Soul,  by  sorrow  bowed 

Upon  the  accursed  tree  ! 
He  hears  the  bitter  scorning  ; 
'Tis  night,  without  a  dawning : 

'Twas  suffered  all  for  me  ! 

Eye,  that  in  darkness  sinketh  ! 
Lip,  that  the  red  cup  drinketh  ! 

Hands,  bound  to  misery  ! 
See,  from  His  feet  forth  streameth 
The  fountain  that  redeemeth  ! 

'Twas  suffered  all  for  me  ! 

And  now  He  speaks  :  oh,  hearken, 
While  clouds  all  nature  darken  ! 
"  Lama  sabachthani  ?" 


tt 


ft 


D 


222  THE    PASSION. 


His  head  is  bent,  and  droopeth  I 
To  such  a  death  He  stoopeth  I 
'Twas  suffered  all  for  me  ! 


WHEN,  WOUNDED  SORE,  THE  STRICKEN 
SOUL. 


"  Touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  infirmities."  —  Heh.  iv.  15.    By  Mrs.  Cecil  Fran- 
ces Alexander.     1858.     One  of  the  best  hymns  of  this  gifted  poetess. 


"XT /"HEN,  wounded  sore,  the  stricken  soul 

'  '     Lies  bleeding  and  unbound. 
One  only  hand,  a  pierced  hand, 
Can  salve  the  sinner's  wound. 

When  sorrow  swells  the  laden  breast, 

And  tears  of  anguisli  flow, 
One  only  heart,  a  broken  heart. 

Can  feel  the  sinner's  woe. 

When  penitence  has  wept  in  vain 

Over  some  foul,  dark  spot. 
One  only  stream,  a  stream  of  blood, 

Can  wash  away  the  blot. 

'TIS  Jesu's  blood  that  washes  white. 

His  hand  that  brings  relief; 
His  heart  that's  touched  with  all  our  joys, 

And  feeleth  for  our  grief. 


i 


ARE  THERE  NO  WOUNDS  FOR  M£  ?  223 

Lift  up  Thy  bleeding  hand,  O  Lord  I 

Unseal  that  cleansing  tide  : 
We  have  no  shelter  from  our  sin 

But  in  Thy  wounded  side. 


ARE  THERE  NO  WOUNDS   FOR  M£:P 


"  Who  loved  me,  and  gave  Himself  for  me."  —  Gal.  ii.  20.     By  Mrs.  Grace  Web- 
ster Hinsdale,  of  Brooklyn,  N.Y.,  April,  1868.     Contributed  to  this  Collection. 


A  RE  there  no  wounds  for  me  ? 
-^~^    Hast  Thou  received  them  all? 
How  can  I,  Lord,  the  anguish  see, 
Beneath  which  Thou  didst  fall ! 

Shedding  such  tears  for  me  ! 

Sweating  such  drops  of  blood  ! 
That  by  Thy  s'ripes  my  soul  might  be 

Saved  from  the  wrath  of  God  I 

'Tis  over  now,  I  know,  — 
That  suffering  life  of  Thine  ; 

Thy  precious  blood  has  ceased  to  flow, 
Thou  wear'st  Thy  crown  divine  ; 

But  yet,  I  weeping  see 

The  thorns  which  pierced  Thy  head  ; 
Thou  faint'st  beneath  Thy  cross  for  me, 

For  me  to  death  Thou'rt  led  ! 


:3 


224 


THE    PASSION. 

Stretched  on  the  cruel  tree, 
And  fastened  by  my  sin,  — 

Lord,  at  Thy  cross,  with  shame,  I  see 
How  guilty  I  have  been. 

Meekly,  with  love  divine, 

Thy  holy  head  is  bent. 
And  streams  of  blood,  for  sins  of  mine, 

Flow  where  Thy  side  is  rent. 

Such  grief  did  well  atone 

For  all  our  sinful  race  ; 
But  yet,  O  Christ !  for  me  alone 

The  Father  hid  His  face  ! 

Oh,  how  this  crimson  tide 

O'erwhelms  my  soul  with  shame  ! 
Within  Thy  bleeding  wounds  I  hide  : 

Wilt  Thou,  Lord,  own  my  name? 

Beneath  this  sacred  flood 

I  bow  my  sinful  soul : 
Dear  Saviour,  let  Thy  precious  blood 

O'er  my  defilement  roll. 


fi 


THE  BURIAL   OF   CHRIST. 


EASTER      EVE. 


"  And  when  Joseph  had  taken  the  body,  he  wrapped  it  in  a  clean  linen  cloth,  and 
laid  it  in  his  own  new  tomb,  which  he  had  he'vn  out  in  the  rock :  and  he  rolled  a  great 
stone  to  the  door  of  the  sepulchre,  and  departed.  And  there  was  Mary  Magdalene 
and  the  other  Mary,  sitting  over  against  the  sepulchre."  —  Matt,  xxvii.  59-61. 

/^  LORD  JESUS,  who  by  Thj  rest  in  the  grave,  and  descent 
into  the  world  of  departed  spirits,  hast  sanctified  the  tomb, 
and  opened  the  gate  of  paradise  to  all  believers  :  grant  unto  us, 
we  beseech  Thee,  that,  being  crucified  with  Thee  to  sin,  we  may 
rest  in  peace,  and  attain,  with  the  whole  army  of  the  Redeemed, 
unto  the  glorious  resurrection  to  life  everlasting.     Amen. 

"  Come  and  deck  the  grave  with  flowers. 
That  is  now  a  blessed  bed. 
Where  the  truest  Friend  of  ours 
Stooped  to  rest  His  holy  head ; 
For  the  Saviour,  in  it  lying. 

Did  its  grief  and  gloom  destroy, 

Took  from  death  the  dread  of  dying, 

Gavfc  to  life  its  crown  and  joy." 

John  S.  B.  Monsell. 


IS 


THE   BURIAL  OF  CHRIST. 


EASTER      EVE. 


THE  SEPULCHRE   IS   HOLDING. 


Translated  from  the  Latin.     The  People's  Hymnal,  Lond.  1867,  No.  ii«. 


nPHE  sepulchre  is  holding 
-*■     To-day  within  its  band 
The  Lord,  Who  holds  creation 
Within  His  strong  right  hand. 

To-day  a  stone  is  hiding 
From  gaze  of  mortal  eye 

The  Lord,  whose  glory  hideth 
The  brightness  of  the  sky. 

The  Life  of  all  is  sleeping, 
But  Hell  is  quaking  sore ; 

And  Adam  bursts  the  fetters 
Which  prisoned  him  before. 


c_a 


228  THE    BURIAL    OF    CHRIST. 

All  praise  to  Thee,  Lord  Jesu, 
Whose  Providence  of  love 

Hath  won  for  us,  Thy  people, 
The  Sabbath  rest  above. 

To  Christ,  the  King  of  glory, 
Who  in  the  tomb  was  laid. 

To  Father  and  to  Spirit 
Eternal  laud  be  paid. 


REST   OF  THE  WEARY! 

(^So  rukest  Du,  O  metne  Ruh\') 


Salomon  Frank,  1716.    Trsl.  by  Miss  C.  Winkworth,  Lyra  Germ.,  I.  p.  85. 


R' 


EST  of  the  weary  !     Thou 

Thyself  art  resting  now, 

Where  lowly  in  Thy  sepulchre  Thou  liest. 

From  out  her  deathly  sleep, 

My  soul  doth  start,  to  weep, 

So  sad  a  wonder,  that  Thou  Saviour  diest ! 

Thy  bitter  anguish  o'er, 

To  this  dark  tomb  they  bore 
Thee,  Life  of  life, — Thee,  Lord  of  all  creation  ! 

The  hollow  rocky  cave 

Must  serve  Thee  for  a  grave, 
Who  wast  Thyself  the  Rock  of  our  Salvation  ! 


REST    OF    THE    WEARY  !  229 

O  Prince  of  Life  !  I  know 

That  when  I,  too,  lie  low, 
Thou  wilt  at  last  my  soul  from  death  awaken ; 

Wherefore  I  will  not  shrink 

From  the  grave's  awful  brink : 
The  heart  that  trusts  in  Thee  shall  ne'er  be  shaken. 

To  me  the  darksome  tomb 

Is  but  a  narrow  room, 
Where  I  may  rest  in  peace,  from  sorrow  free. 

Thy  death  shall  give  me  power 

To  cry  in  that  dark  hour, 
O  Death,  O  Grave,  where  is  your  victory? 

The  grave  can  nought  destroy, 

Only  the  flesh  can  die ; 
And  e'en  the  body  triumphs  o'er  decay : 

Clothed  by  Thy  wondrous  might 

In  robes  of  dazzling  light. 
This  flesh  shall  burst  the  grave  at  that  last  Day. 

My  Jesus,  day  by  day. 

Help  me  to  watch  and  pray, 
Beside  the  tomb  where  in  my  heart  ThouVt  laid  : 

Thy  bitter  death  shall  be 

My  constant  memory. 
My  guide  at  last  into  Death's  awful  shade. 


230  THE   BURIAL    OF   CHRIST. 


RESTING  FROM  HIS  WORK  TO-DAY. 


Yxoxa  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modem,  Lond.  i860,  No.  105. 


"D  ESTING  from  His  work  to-day, 
•^^    In  the  tomb  the  Saviour  lay ; 
Still  He  slept,  from  head  to  feet 
Shrouded  in  the  winding-sheet, 
Lying  in  the  rock  alone, 
Hidden  by  the  sealed  stone. 

Late  at  even  there  was  seen, 
Watching  long,  the  Magdalene  ; 
Early,  ere  the  break  of  day, 
Sorrowful  she  took  her  way 
To  the  holy  garden  glade, 
Where  her  buried  Lord  was  laid. 

So  with  Thee,  till  life  shall  end, 
I  would  solemn  vigil  spend  ; 
Let  me  hew  Thee,  Lord,  a  shrine 
In  this  rocky  heart  of  mine, 
Where,  in  pure  embalmed  cell. 
None  but  Thou  may  ever  dwell. 


tJ 


REST,    WEARY    SON    OF   GOD.  23 1 

Myrrh  and  spices  will  I  bring, 

True  affection's  offering ; 

Close  the  door  from  sight  and  sound 

Of  the  busy  world  around ; 

And  in  patient  watch  remain 

Till  my  Lord  appear  again. 


REST,  WEARY  SON  OF  GOD. 


S 


HoRATlUS  BoNAR.    HyiHtts  of  Faith  and  Hope,  Third  Series,  18 


TD  EST,  weary  Son  of  God ;  and  I,  with  Thee, 
-*-^  Rest  in  that  rest  of  Thine. 
My  weariness  was  Thine  ;  Thou  barest  it, 
And  now  Thy  rest  is  mine. 

Rest,  weary  Son  of  God ;  we  joy  to  think 

That  all  Thy  toil  is  done. 
No  ache,  no  pang,  no  sigh  for  Thee  again ; 

Thy  joy  is  now  begun. 

Thy  life  on  earth  was  one  sad  weariness  ; 

Nowhere  to  lay  Thy  head. 
Thy  days  v/ere  toil  and  heat ;  Thy  lonely  nights 

Sought  some  cold  mountain  bed. 


232  THE    BURIAL    OF    CHRIST. 

How  calmly  in  that  tomb  Thou  liest  now, 

Thy  rest  how  still  and  deep  ! 
O'er  Thee  in  love  the  Father  rests  :  He  gives 

To  His  beloved  sleep. 

On  Bethel-pillow  now  Thy  head  is  laid, 

In  Joseph's  rock-hewn  cell ; 
Thy  watchers  are  the  angels  of  Thy  God : 

They  guard  Thy  slumbers  well. 

With  Thee  Thy  God  and  Father  still  abides, 

And  Thou  art  not  alone. 
He  in  that  still  dark  chamber  is  with  Thee, 

The  well-beloved  Son. 

Oh,  silent,  silent  is  Thy  earthly  tomb  1 

The  raging  of  Thy  foes 
Is  ended  all !  nor  Jew  nor  Roman  now 

Can  ruffle  Thy  repose. 

Rest,  weary  Son  of  God :  Thy  work  is  done. 

And  all  Thy  burdens  borne  ; 
Rest  on  that  stone,  till  the  third  sun  has  brought 

Thine  everlasting  morn. 

Then  to  a  higher,  brighter,  truer  rest, 

Upon  the  throne  above. 
Rise,  weary  Son  of  Man,  to  carry  out 

Thy  glorious  work  of  love. 


THE   RESURRECTION. 


"  Christ  is  risen  from  the  dead,  and  become  the  first-fruits  of  them  that  slept 
For  since  by  man  came  death,  by  man  came  also  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  For  as 
in  Adam  all  die,  even  so  in  Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive."  —  i  Cor.  xv.  20-22. 

"  If  ye,  then,  be  risen  virith  Christ,  seek  those  things  which  are  above,  where 
Christ  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of  God."  —  Col.  iii.  i, 

r~\  THOU  Prince  of  Life  and  First-Begotten  of  the  dead! 
who,  by  Thy  glorious  resurrection,  hast  overcome  death, 
and  opened  unto  us  the  gate  of  everlasting  life :  enable  us,  by 
Thy  heavenly  grace,  to  walk  in  newness  of  life,  and  to  abound 
in  the  fruits  of  righteousness ;  so  that  we  may  at  last  triumph 
over  death  and  the  grave,  and  rise  in  Thy  likeness,  having  our 
vile  bodies  changed  into  the  fashion  of  Thine  own  glorious  body, 
who  art  God  over  all,  blessed  for  ever.     Amen. 

"  Stupenda  lex  mysterii, 
Novum  genus  proclii : 
Ligatus  nexos  liberat, 
Mortuus  vivificat, 
Dumque  Vita  perimitur, 
Mortis  mors  efficitur." 

Peter  Damiani  (Daniel,  1.  223). 


THE    RESURRECTION. 


HAIL,  DAY  OF   DAYS  I   IN  PEALS   OF 
PRAISE. 

{Salve,  festa  dies,  toto  venerabilis  cevo.) 


Free,  from  the  Latin  of  Venantius  Fortunatus,  Bishop  of  Poictiers,  600.  In 
this  sweet  poem,  the  whole  nature,  bom  anew  in  the  spring,  and  arrayed  in  the  bridal 
garment  of  hope  and  promise,  welcomes  the  risen  Saviour,  the  Prince  of  spiritual  and 
eternal  life.  The  original  (Daniel,  I.  170)  has  fourteen  stanzas,  of  three  lines  each. 
Trench  (p.  152)  gives  only  ten  lines.  Daniel  remarks,  "  Ex  hoc  suavissimo  poemate 
ecclesia  decem  versus  sibi  vindicavit,  qui  efficerent  canticum  triumphaie  Paschatis." 
It  passed  also  into  several  German  forms,  e.g.,  "  Sei  gegriisst,  du  heiliger  Tag."  The 
version  here  given  is  a  very  free  transfusion,  in  a  different  measure.  Another  English 
version,  more  closely  following  the  original,  by  Mrs.  Charles  :  "  Hail,  festal  Day  I 
ever  exalted  high ; "  and  one  by  Dr.  Neale  :  "  Hail,  festal  Day !  for  evermore 
adored." 

T  TAIL,  Day  of  days  !  in  peals  of  praise 
-^  -^   Throughout  all  ages  owned, 
When  Christ,  our  God,  hell's  empire  trod, 
And  high  o'er  heaven  was  throned.' 

This  glorious  morn  the  world  new-born 

In  rising  beauty  shows  ; 
How,  with  her  Lord  to  life  restored, 

Her  gifts  and  graces  rose  ! 

*  "  Salve,  festa  dies,  toto  venerabilis  :evo. 

Qua  Deus  infernum  vicit  et  astra  tenet. 
Salve,  festa  dies,  toto  venerabilis  avo." 


5 


236  THE    RESURRECTION. 

The  spring  serene  in  sparkling  sheen 

The  flower-clad  earth  arrays, 
Heaven's  portal  bright  its  radiant  light 

In  fuller  flood  displays. 

The  fiery  sun  in  loftier  noon, 

O'er  heaven's  high  orbit  shines, 
As  o'er  the  tide  of  waters  wide 

He  rises  and  declines. 

From  hell's  deep  gloom,  from  earth's  dark  tomb, 

The  Lord  in  triumph  soars  ; 
The  forests  raise  their  leafy  praise  ; 

The  flowery  field  adores. 

As  star  by  star  He  mounts  afar, 

And  hell  imprisoned  lies, 
Let  stars  and  light  and  depth  and  height 

In  Hallelujahs  rise. 

Lo  !    He  Who  died,  the  Crucified, 

God  over  all  He  reigns  ; 
On  Him  we  call,  His  creatures  all. 

Who  heaven  and  earth  sustains. 


THE    SUPPER    OF    THE    LAMB    TO    SHARE.        237 

THE  SUPPER  OF  THE  LAMB  TO  SHARE. 

(^Ad  ccenam  Agni  ■providi.) 


An  old  hymmcs  pasckalis,  which  may  have  been  sung,  in  the  early  Church,  by  the 
newly  baptized  catechumens,  when,  in  their  white  robes,  they  first  approached  the 
Lord's  table.  Daniel,  I.  88,  gives  the  original,  and  the  altered  form  of  the  Roman 
Breviary  ("  Ad  regias  Agni  dapes").  Trsl.  in  yoice  0/ Christian  Life  in  Song,  p.  103. 
Another  version  by  Neale  :  "  The  Lamb's  high  banquet  we  await." 


''  I  ^HE  Supper  of  the  Lamb  to  share, 

-*-     We  come  in  vesture  white  and  fair ; 
The  Red  Sea  crossed,  our  hymn  we  sing 
To  Christ,  our  Captain  and  our  King. 

His  holy  body  on  the  cross, 
Parched,  on  that  altar  hung  for  us  ; 
And,  drinking  of  His  crimson  blood, 
We  live  upon  the  living  God. 

Protected  in  the  Paschal  night 
From  the  destroying  angel's  might, 
And  by  a  powerful  hand  set  free 
From  Pharaoh's  bitter  slavery. 

For  Christ  our  Passover  is  slain. 
The  Lamb  is  offered  not  in  vain  ; 
With  truth's  sincere  unleavened  bread, 
His  flesh  He  gave,  His  blood  He  shed. 


cfi 


238  THE    RESURRECTION. 

O  Victim,  worthy  Thou  for  ever, 
Who  didst  the  bands  of  hell  dissever  ! 
Redeem  Thy  captives  from  the  foe, 
The  gift  of  life  afresh  bestow. 

When  Christ  from  out  the  tomb  arose, 
Victor  o'er  hell  and  all  His  foes, 
The  tyrant  forth  in  chains  He  drew. 
And  planted  Paradise  anew. 

Author  of  all,  to  Thee  we  pray, 
In  this  our  Easter  joy  to-day  ; 
From  every  weapon  death  can  wield 
Thy  trusting  people  ever  shield. 


WE  KEEP  THE  FESTIVAL. 

(^Ad  regias  Agni  dafes.') 


From  the  Roman  Breviary  (Sabbato  in  Albis  infia  Octavam  Paschae).  Daniel, 
I.  88.  Compare  the  preceding  hymn  and  note.  Reproduced  (with  a  doxology  added) 
by  the  Rev.  Dr.  A.  R.  Thompson,  of  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church,  New  York, 
Easter,  186S.    Contributed  to  this  Collection. 


"XT  TE  keep  the  festival 

'  '     Of  the  slain  Lamb  our  King. 

The  Red  Sea  passed. 

And  safe  at  last, 
Our  Leader's  praise  we  sing. 


cfl 


WE   KEEP   THE   FESTIVAL.  239 

His  love  ineffable 

He  pledged  in  precious  blood ; 

And  Priest  most  high, 

The  altar  by, 
Himself  devoting,  stood. 

The  sacred  crimson  sign 
The  avenging  angel  knew ; 

And  the  sea  fled 

Back  at  Christ's  tread, 
And  gave  a  pathway  through. 

Christ  is  our  Passover  ! 
And  we  will  keep  the  feast 

With  the  new  leaven. 

The  bread  of  heaven  : 
All  welcome,  even  the  least ! 

O  Heavenly  Champion ! 

Death  thought  to  vanquish  Thee  ! 

But  Death  is  slain  ; 

And  Thou  again 
Art  risen,  and  we  are  free. 

Hail,  mighty  Conqueror ! 
Under  Thy  glorious  feet 

The  tyrant  lies, 

And  gasps,  and  dies  : 
What  praise  for  Thee  is  meet? 


240  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Forth  from  the  gloomy  prison, 
Jesus,  we  follow  Thee, 

With  broken  chain. 

With  ended  pain, 
To  life  and  liberty  ! 

All  glory  be  to  Thee  ! 
All  worship  to  Thy  name  ! 

Thee  we  adore, 

And  evermore 
Will  celebrate  Thy  fame  ! 


THE  CHURCH  OF  GOD  LIFTS  UP  HER 
VOICE. 


Greek  Paschal  Hymn.     From  the  offices  of  the  Greek  Church,  by  W.  C.  Dix. 


nPHE  Church  of  God  lifts  up  her  voice  : 

To-day  both  heaven  and  earth  rejoice ; 
The  gladsome  Passover  is  here, 
The  Passover  of  Christ  most  dear. 


The  Passover  that  frees  from  woe, 
That  binds  in  chains  the  ancient  foe. 
That  opens  wide  the  heavenly  gate. 
The  Lord's  own  day  we  celebrate. 


IF    THE    DARK    AND    AWFUL    TOIMB.  24I 

From  "  very  early  "  until  night, 
One  strain  we  lift,  one  shout  of  might : 
With  Eucharist  the  morn  arose, 
With  Hallelujahs  day  shall  close. 

O  Christ,  eternal  Pascha,  Thou, 
And  Crown  for  every  willing  brow ! 
Thou  spotless  Lamb,  and  Victor  bright, 
AiTayed  in  more  than  morning  light  I 

On  this  Thy  Resurrection-day 
Be  strife  and  hate  put  far  away. 
That  those  who  in  Thy  likeness  live 
May  each  his  brother's  wrongs  forgive. 

The  earth  in  festal  raiment  stands. 
The  floods  for  gladness-  clap  their  hands ; 
Then  higher  still,  and  higher  raise. 
The  true,  the  living  Pascha's  praise. 


IF  THE  DARK  AND  AWFUL  TOMB. 

(El  Kut  ev  Ta(p(f).) 


Greek  ode  of  John  Damascene,  787,  the  greatest  poet,  and  one  of  the  first 
divines,  of  the  Oriental  Church,  though  very  little  is  known  of  his  life.  Translated  by 
W.  C.  Dix. 

TF  the  dark  and  awful  tomb 

Thou,  immortal  One,  hast  known, 

Rising,  in  Thy  deathless  bloom, 

Hades  Thou  hast  overthrown. 
16 


242  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Yes  :  as  Victor  Thou  hast  burst 
All  the  bands  of  hell,  and  said, 
Hail !  to  those  who  sought  Thee  first, 
Bearing  ointment  for  the  dead. 

Peace,  Thy  earliest,  sweetest  gift, 
Unto  Thine  Apostles  given  ; 
All  the  fallen  Thou  didst  hft 
From  the  gates  of  hell  to  heaven. 


TIS   THE  DAY  OF  RESURRECTION. 

('' Avaaraaeug  7}fiepa.) 


From  the  Greek  of  St.  John  of  Damascus  (d.  before  787).  His  "  Canon  for  Eas- 
ter," which  we  give  here  in  part,  is  called  "the  Golden  Canon,"  or  "the  Queen  of 
Canons,"  and  is  sung  in  the  Greek  Churches  after  midnight  before  Easter  Day. 
Translated  by  Dr.  J.  M.  Neale  {//.  of  the  E.  Ch.,  1862). 


"T^IS  the  day  of  Resurrection 

■^    Earth,  tell  it  out  abroad  ! 
The  Passover  of  gladness, 

The  Passover  of  God  ! 
From  death  to  life  eternal. 

From  earth  unto  the  sky, 
Our  Christ  hath  brought  us  over, 

With  hymns  of  victory. 


U" 


COME,    YE    FAITHFUL,    RAISE    THE    STRAIN.       243 

Our  hearts  be  pure  from  evil, 

That  we  may  see  aright 
The  Lord  in  rays  eternal 

Of  resurrection  light : 
And,  listening  to  His  accents, 

May  hear,  so  calm  and  plain. 
His  own  "  All  hail !  " —  and  hearing. 

May  raise  the  victor  strain. 

Now  let  the  heavens  be  joyful ! 

Let  earth  her  song  begin  ! 
Let  the  round  world  keep  triumph, 

And  all  that  is  therein  : 
In  grateful  exultation 

Their  notes  let  all  things  blend, 
For  Christ  the  Lord'  hath  risen, 

Our  joy  that  hath  no  end. 


COME,  YE   FAITHFUL,  RAISE   THE 
STRAIN. 

('Aaujiev  iruvrs^  Tiuot.) 


From  the  Greek  of  St.  John  of  Damascus,  787,  by  Dr.  J.  M.  Neale.  This 
ode  is  the  first  of  his  canon  for  St.  Thomas's  Sunday,  called  also  Renewal  Sunday,  or 
Low  Sunday. 

/^~^OME,  ye  faithful,  raise  the  strain 
^-^    Of  triumphant  gladness  ! 
God  hath  brought  His  Israel 
Into  joy  from  sadness  ; 


244  '^^^    RESURRECTION. 

Loosed  from  Pharaoh's  bitter  yoke 
Jacob's  sons  and  daughters; 

Led  them  with  unmoistened  foot 
Through  the  Red  Sea  waters. 

'Tis  the  spring  of  souls  to-day  : 

Christ  hath  burst  His  prison  ; 
And  from  three  days'  sleep  in  death, 

As  a  sun,  hath  risen. 
All  the  winter  of  our  sins, 

Long  and  dark,  is  flying 
From  His  light,  to  whom  we  give 

Laud  and  praise  undying. 

Now  the  queen  of  seasons,  bright 

With  the  day  of  splendor. 
With  the  royal  Feast  of  feasts, 

Comes  its  joy  to  render : 
Comes  to  glad  Jerusalem, 

Who  with  true  affection 
Welcomes,  in  unwearied  strains, 

Jesu's  Resurrection. 

Neither  might  the  gates  of  death. 

Nor  the  tomb's  dark  portal, 
Nor  the  watchers,  nor  the  seal, 

Hold  Thee  as  a  mortal : 
But  to-day  amidst  the  twelve 

Thou  didst  stand,  bestowing 
That  Thy  peace,  which  evermore 

Passcth  human  knowing. 


THIS    HOLY    MORN,    SO    FAIR    AND    BRIGHT.        245 


THIS    HOLY   MORN,   SO   FAIR   AND 
BRIGHT. 

(^Aurora  cazlu7n  furfurat.') 


Free,  from  the  Latin  of  the  Roman  Breviary  (Dominica  in  Albis),  by  the  Rev.  J. 
Chandler,  1837.  Two  different  texts  of  this  ancient  hymmis  pasckalis  in  Daniel, 
I.  p.  83;  MoNE,  I.  p.  190  ("Aurora  lucis  rutilat").  Mone  found  a  copy  at  Reichenau 
from  the  beginning  of  the  ninth  century.  The  Latin  text  is  often  divided  into  two 
hymns.  Another  version  by  Caswall  :  "  The  Davra  was  purpling  over  the  sky ;  " 
and  in  the  Hymnal  Noted:  "Light's  glittering  mom  bedecks  the  sky."  Compare 
also  the  next  hymn. 


"  I  ^HIS  holy  morn,  so  fair  and  bright. 

Shall  hear  our  praises  swell : 
For  oh,  what  joy  prevails  on  earth, 
What  wild  despair  in  hell ! 

This  morn  our  mighty  King  arose 
From  death's  infernal  cave. 

And  many  a  saint,  to  welcome  Him, 
Hath  left  his  ancient  grave. 

In  vain  they  sealed  His  sepulchre. 
And  watched  around  His  tomb  : 

The  Lord  hath  gained  the  victory, 
And  death  is  overcome. 


> 

Z) 


246  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Then  calm  your  grief,  dismiss  your  fears, 

Let  no  more  tears  be  shed  : 
The  mighty  Vanquisher  of  death 

Is  risen  from  the  dead. 

Oh,  Jesu  !  may  we  ever  live 

From  sin  and  sorrow  free  ; 
Then  let  us  ever  die  to  sin, 

And  ever  live  to  Thee. 


THE  MORNING  PURPLES  ALL  THE  SKY. 

{Aurora  caelum  furpurat.) 


On  the  basis  of  the  same  hymn  of  the  Roman  Breviary  for  the  Dominica  in  Albis. 
Daniel,  I.  83.     By  Dr.  A.  R.  Thompson,  New  York,  1867.     Contributed. 


nr^HE  morning  purples  all  the  sky, 
"*-    The  air  with  praises  rings  ; 
Defeated  hell  stands  sullen  by, 

The  world  exulting  sings  : 
Glory  to  God  !  our  glad  lips  cry  ; 

All  praise  and  worship  be 
On  earth,  in  heaven,  to  God  Most  High, 

For  Christ's  great  victory  ! 

While  He,  the  King  all  strong  to  save, 
Rends  the  dark  doors  away, 

And  through  the  breaches  of  the  grave 
Strides  forth  into  the  dav. 


fl 


THE    MORNING    PURPLES    ALL    THE    SKY.        247 

Glory  to  God  !  our  glad  lips  cry  ; 

All  praise  and  worship  be 
On  earth,  in  heaven,  to  God  Most  High, 

For  Christ's  great  victory  ! 

Death's  captive,  in  his  gloomy  prison 

Fast  fettered  He  has  lain  ; 
But  He  has  mastered  death,  is  risen. 

And  death  wears  now  the  chain. 
Glory  to  God  !  our  glad  lips  cry  ; 

All  praise  and  worship  be 
On  earth,  in  heaven,  to  God  Most  High, 

For  Christ's  great  victory  ! 

The  shining  angels  cry,  "  Away 

With  grief;  no  spices  bring  ; 
Not  tears,  but  songs,  this  joyful  day, 

Should  greet  the  rising  King  !  " 
Glory  to  God  !  our  glad  lips  cry  : 

All  praise  and  worship  be 
On  earth,  in  heaven,  to  God  most  High, 

For  Christ's  great  victory  ! 

That  Thou  our  Paschal  Lamb  mayst  be. 

And  endless  joy  begin, 
Jesus,  Deliverer,  set  us  free 

From  the  dread  death  of  sin. 
Glory  to  God  !  our  glad  lips  cry ; 

All  praise  and  worship  be 
On  earth,  in  heaven,  to  God  Most  High, 

For  Christ's  great  victory  ! 


248  THE    RESURRECTION. 


HALLELUJAH!   HALLELUJAH  I 

(Alleluia,  Alleluia  !  finitajam  sunt ^ reel ia.) 


From  the  Latin  of  the  12th  century  (see  Daniel,  II.  363),  translated  by  Dr.  J.  M. 
^E.Ai.K  {MedieEval  Hymns  and  Seqttences,  3d  ed.  1867.  p.  168). 


TTALLELUJAH  I  Hallelujah  ! 
Finished  is  the  battle  now  : 
The  crown  is  on  the  Victor's  brow ! 
Hence  with  sadness ! 
Sing  with  gladness, 
Hallelujah  ! 

Hallelujah !  Hallelujah  ! 

After  sharp  death  that  him  befell, 

Jesus  Christ  hath  conquered  hell. 

Earth  is  singing, 

Heaven  is  ringing, 
Hallelujah  I 

Hallelujah  !  Hallelujah  ! 

On  the  third  morning  He  arose. 

Bright  with  victory  o'er  his  foes. 

Sing  we  lauding. 

And  applauding. 
Hallelujah  ! 


BEHOLD  THE  DAY  THE  LORD  HATH  MADE  !   249 

Hallelujah !  Hallelujah ! 

He  hath  closed  hell's  brazen  door, 

And  heaven  is  open  evermore  ! 

Hence  with  sadness  ! 

Sing  with  gladness, 
Hallelujah ! 

Hallelujah  !  Hallelujah ! 

Lord,  by  Thy  wounds  we  call  on  Thee, 

So  from  ill  death  to  set  us  free, 

That  our  living 

Be  thanksgiving ! 
Hallelujah ! 


BEHOLD  THE  DAY  THE  LORD  HATH 
MADE! 

{Salve,  Dies  dierum  gloria.') 


From  the  Latin  of  Adam  of  St.  Victor,  the  most  fertile,  and,  in  the  estimation 
of  Trench  and  Neale,  the  greatest  of  the  Latin  hymnologists  of  the  middle  ages,  d.  at 
Paris  after  1172.  Shipley's  Lyra  Messianica,  p.  340.  He  wrote  several  Easter 
hymns,  — "  Mundi  Renovatio;"  ''Zyma  vetus  expurgetur;"  "  Ecce  dies  Celebris," 
&c.     See  Trench,  p.  161,  seq. 


"T)  EHOLD  the  Day  the  Lord  hath  made  ! 
-"-^    That  peerless  day  which  cannot  fade  ; 
That  day  of  light,  that  day  of  joy, 
Of  glory  which  shall  never  cloy. 


250  THE    RESURRECTION. 

The  day  on  which  the  world  was  framed 
Has  signal  honor  ever  claimed ; 
But  Christ,  arising  from  the  dead, 
Unrivalled  brightness  o'er  it  shed. 

In  hope  of  their  celestial  choice, 
Now  let  the  sons  of  light  rejoice  : 
Christ's  members  in  their  lives  declare 
What  likeness  to  their  Head  they  bear. 

For  solemn  is  our  feast  to-day, 
And  solemn  are  the  vows  we  pay : 
This  day's  surpassing  greatness  claims 
Surpassing  joy,  surpassing  aims. 

The  Paschal  victory  displays 
The  glory  of  our  festal  days ; 
Which  type  and  shadow  dimly  bore, 
In  promise  to  the  saints  of  yore. 

The  veil  is  rent;  and,  lo  !  unfold 
The  things  the  ancient  Law  foretold : 
The  figure  from  the  substance  flies, 
And  light  the  shadow's  place  supplies. 

The  type  the  spotless  Lamb  conveyed, 
The  goat,  where  Israel's  sins  were  laid ; 
Messiah,  purging  our  offence, 
Disclosed  in  all  their  hidden  sense. 


NOW 


THY    GENTLE    LAMB,    O    SION  !  2$! 


B}'  freely  yielding  up  His  breath, 
He  freed  us  from  the  bonds  of  death, 
Who  on  that  Prey  forbidden  flew, 
And  lost  the  prey  that  was  his  due. 

The  ills  on  sinful  flesh  that  lay 
His  sinless  flesh  hath  done  awa}'-, 
Which  blooming  fresh  on  that  third  morn 
Assurance  gave  to  souls  forlorn. 

O  wondrous  Death  of  Christ  !  may  we 
Be  made  to  live  to  Christ  by  thee  ! 
O  deathless  Death,  destroy  our  sin. 
Give  us  the  prize  of  life  to  win ! 


NOW  THY  GENTLE  LAMB,  O  SION. 

{Mitis  Agnus,  Leo  fort  is.') 


Translated  from  the  Latin  by  H.  Trend.     The  original  in  Du  Meril,  II.  53; 
and  Daniel,  IV.  160. 


I^OW  thy  gentle  Lamb,  O  Sion, 

Shows  the  strength  of  Judah's  Lion  ; 

Hell's  stern  fetters  hold  Him  not : 
Dawns  the  third  day  o'er  His  prison, 
And  our  Mighty  Saviour  risen. 

Makes  us  share  His  glorious  lot. 


:z) 


13 


252  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Holy  women,  with  devotion 

Such  as  springs  from  love's  emotion, 

Bring  sweet  unguents  to  His  tomb  ; 
There,  O  wonderful  transition  ! 
Worthy  of  the  heavenly  vision. 

Glory  meets  them  in  the  gloom. 

One  in  faith  that  scorns  defection. 
Equal  in  their  warm  affection 

For  His  name  whose  grave  they  seek. 
Back  they  see  the  stone  is  taken, 
And  the  opened  tomb  forsaken. 

Whence  they  hear  an  Angel  speak  : 

Fear  not,  loving  souls  ;  but  going 
Quickly  back,  the  vision  showing. 

Say  to  Peter  and  the  rest : 
Jesus  lives,  o'er  death  victorious, 
Now  to  reign  for  ever  glorious. 

In  the  regions  of  the  blest.  ^ 


•  "  Festinantes  ite  retro ; 
Nuntiantes  visa  Petro 

Cseterisque  propere  I 
Resurrexit  vere  Jesus ; 
Immortalis  et  illasus 

Vivit  iam  in  sethere." 


JESUS    CHRIST    IS    RISEN    TO-DAY.  253 


JESUS   CHRIST   IS   RISEN  TO-DAY. 

(^Surrexit  Chrtstus  kodie.^ 


Reproduced  from  a  Latin  hymn  of  the  15th  century,  which  exists  in  different  forms. 
See  Wackernacel,  I.  pp.  175-177;  Daniel,  I.  341.  Roundell  Palmer  (No.  LX.) 
adds  a  Hallelujah  to  each  line,  and  erroneously  ascribes  the  hymn  to  the  year  1762, 
the  last  stanza  (which  differs  from  ours)  to  Charles  Wesley. 


TESUS  Christ  is  risen  to-day, 
^     Our  triumphant  holy  day  ; 
Who  did  once  upon  the  cross 
Suffer  to  redeem  our  loss. 
Hallelujah  ! 

Hymns  of  praise'  then  let  us  sing 
Unto  Christ,  our  heavenly  King ; 
Who  endured  the  cross  and  grave, 
Sinners  to  redeem  and  save. 
Hallelujah  ! 

But  the  pains  which  He  endured 
Our  salvation  have  procured  ; 
Now  above  the  sky  He's  King, 
Where  the  angels  ever  sing. 
Hallelujah ! 

Now  be  God  the  Father  praised. 
With  the  Son,  from  death  upraised, 
And  the  Spirit,  ever  blest ; 
One  true  God,  by  all  confest. 
Hallelujah ! 


fl 


t^ 


254  THE    RESURRECTION. 


LET   ZION'S   SONS   AND   DAUGHTERS 
SAY. 

'vX^X    SX    \.  iO  Filii et  Fili<E.) 


Translated  from  the  Latin,  by  Prof.  Thomas  C.  Porter,  Easton,  Pa.,  March, 
i8s9 ;  revised,  April,  1868.  Contributed.  Another  translation,  by  Dr.  Nealk 
("  Alleluia  I  ye  sons  and  daughters  of  the  King"),  and  one  in  E.  J.  Hopkins'  Temple- 
Church  Choral  Service,  Lend.  1867  ("Ye  sons  and  daughters  of  the  Lord").  13th 
century. 

T    ET  Zion's  sons  and  daughters  say  : 
-^^   "  Heaven's  glorious  King,  our  King  for  aye, 
Hath  broke  the  bonds  of  death  to-day  ! " 
Hallelujah  ! 


Their  Sabbath  o'er,  with  sweet  perfume, 
Amid  the  morning's  early  gloom, 
His  followers  hasten  to  the  tomb. 
Hallelujah ! 

With  Mary  Magdalene  view 
Salome, — James's  mother  too  ; 
They  come  the  sacred  corse  t'  imbue. 
Hallelujah  ! 

White-robed  and  seated  on  the  stone, 
God's  angel  speaks  in  thrilling  tone  : 
"Your  Lord  to  Galilee  hath  gone." 
Hallelujah ! 


fi 


LET    ZION's    sons    AND    DAUGHTERS    SAY.       255 

His  best-beloved,  with  eager  pace, 
Outstripping  Peter  in  the  race. 
First  Cometh  to  th'  appointed  place. 
Hallelujah  ! 

Where  gathered  His  disciples  true, 
There  in  the  midst  Christ  stood  to  view, 
Proclaiming  :  "  Peace  be  unto  you  !  " 
Hallelujah ! 

When  Didymus  now  heard  it  said, 
That  Jesus  rising  left  the  dead, 
Strong  doubt  possessed  his  heart  and  head. 
Hallelujah  ! 

"See,  Thomas,  see  My  wounded  side, 
These  hands  and  feet !  "  the  Saviour  cried, 
"Doubt  not :  believe  ;  in  Me  confide." 
Hallelujah ! 

When  Thomas  searched  with  earnest  heed 
Feet,  hands,  and  side,  from  doubting  freed. 
He  said  :  "  Thou  art  my  God  indeed  !  " 
Hallelujah  ! 

Who  have  not  seen  with  mortal  eyes, 
And  yet  believe,  shall  win  the  prize, 
Eternal  life  beyond  the  skies. 
Hallelujah ! 


D 


U 


n 


256  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Upon  this  hallowed  festal  day, 
Triumphant  swell  the  joyful  lay  ; 
O  let  us  bless  the  Lord  alway  ! 
Hallelujah ! 

For  grace  like  this,  so  rich  and  free, 
Most  humble  thanks  we  pay  to  Thee, 
Great  Three  in  One  and  One  in  Three  ! 
Hallelujah  ! 


MARY!   PUT  THY  GRIEF  AWAY. 

A  .  ft  {Pone  lucium,  Magdalena !) 

From  the  Latin.  Daniel,  II.  p.  365.  By  W.  J.  C.  [Lyra  Mess.,  p.  328).  Mary 
Magdalena  is  here,  as  in  the  Dies  Iree  and  other  Latin  hymns,  identified  with  the  sin- 
ful woman,  Luke  vii.  37.     See  the  note  in  Trench,  p.  159. 


■jV/TARY  !  put  thy  grief  away, 

And  thy  drooping  eyelid  clear : 
'Tis  not  Simon's  feast  to-day, 
'Tis  no  time  to  shed  a  tear  ; 
There  are  thousand  springs  of  joy. 
Thousand  springs  of  transport  high. 

Mary  !  learn  to  smile  again, 

Let  thy  beaming  forehead  brighten  ; 

Far  is  banished  every  pain. 

Now  the  Sun  of  suns  doth  lighten : 

Christ  the  world  from  death  hath  freed ; 

Yea,  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed. 


STILL    THY    SORROW,    MAGDALENA  !  257 

Mary  !  leap  for  joy  and  gladness, 

Christ  hath  triumphed  o'er  the  tomb  ; 

He  hath  closed  the  scene  of  sadness, 
He  of  death  hath  sealed  the  doom  ; 

Whom  thou  late  in  death  wast  mourning. 

Welcome  now  to  life  returning. 

Mary  !  lift  thy  trembling  glance, 
View  Him  risen  with  deep  amaze  ; 

See  !  how  fair  that  countenance  ! 
On  those  wounds  resplendent  gaze  ; 

How  like  purest  pearls  they  shine, 

Sparkling  all  with  life  Divine  ! 

Mary  !  live,  yea,  live  again, 

Now  thy  Light  again  hath  shone ; 

Transport  swell  through  every  vein, 
Now  the  sting  of  death  has  gone  : 

Far  away  be  gloom  and  sadness. 

All  once  more  be  joy  and  gladness. 


STILL  THY  SORROW,  MAGDALENA! 

(Pone  luctum,  Magdalena  /) 


Another  and  better  version  of  this  sweet  and  cheering  Easter  hymn,  by  the  Rev. 
Dr.  E.  A.  Washburn,  New  York,  June,  1868.     Contributed. 


OTILL  thy  sorrow,  Magdalena  ! 

Wipe  the  tear-drops  from  thine  eyes ; 
Not  at  Simon's  board  thou  kneelest. 
Pouring  thy  repentant  sighs  : 


17 


258  THE    RESURRECTION. 

All  with  thy  glad  heart  rejoices  ; 
All  things  sing  with  happy  voices, 
Hallelujah ! 


Laugh  with  rapture,  Magdalena  ! 

Be  thy  drooping  forehead  bright ; 
Banished  now  is  every  anguish, 

Breaks  anew  thy  morning  light : 
Christ  from  death  the  world  hath  freed ; 
He  is  risen,  is  risen  indeed : 
Hallelujah ! 

Joy  !  exult,  O  Magdalena  ! 

He  hath  burst  the  rocky  prison ; 
Ended  are  the  days  of  darkness ; 

Conqueror  hath  He  arisen. 
Mourn  no  more  the  Christ  departed ; 
Run  to  welcome  Him,  glad-hearted  : 
Hallelujah ! 

Lift  thine  eyes,  O  Magdalena  ! 

See  !  thy  living  Master  stands  ; 
See  His  face,  as  ever,  smiling ; 

See  those  wounds  upon  His  hands, 
On  His  feet,  His  sacred  side,  — 
Gems  that  deck  the  Glorified  : 
Hallelujah  ! 


CHRIST    THE    LORD    IS    RISEN   AGAIN  !  259 

Live,  now  live,  O  Magdalena  ! 

Shining  is  thy  new-born  day ; 
Let  thy  bosom  pant  with  pleasure, 

Death's  poor  terror  flee  away  ; 
Far  from  thee  the  tears  of  sadness. 
Welcome  love,  and  welcome  gladness  ! 
Hallelujah ! 


CHRIST  THE  LORD   IS   RISEN  AGAIN! 

(^Chrtstus  ist  erstandeti.) 


An  Easter  hymn  of  the  Bohemian  Brethren,  translated  into  German  by  Mi- 
chael Weiss,  1531,  and,  after  him,  into  English  by  Miss  C.  Winkworth,  1858 
(Z..  G.,  II.  62).  The  German  begins,  like  similar  mediaeval  hymns:  "Christus  ist 
erstanden  von  des  Todes  Banden "  (in  Knapp's  Liedersckatz,  3d  ed.,  No.  626). 
Compare  the  note  on  the  next  hymn. 


/'"^HRIST  the  Lord  is  risen  again  ! 
^^    Christ  hath  broken  every  chain  ! 
Hark  !  the  angels  shout  for  joy. 
Singing  evermore  on  high  : 
Hallelujah ! 

He  who  gave  for  us  His  life. 
Who  for  us  endured  the  strife, 


260  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Is  our  Paschal  Lamb  to-day  ! 
We,  too,  sing  for  joy,  and  say : 
Hallelujah  ! 

He  who  bore  all  pain  and  loss 
Comfortless  upon  the  cross. 
Lives  in  glory  now  on  high, 
Pleads  for  us  and  hears  our  cry : 
Hallelujah  ! 

He  whose  path  no  records  tell. 
Who  descended  into  hell. 
Who  the  strong  man  armed  hath  bound, 
Now  in  the  highest  heaven  is  crowned  : 
Hallelujah ! 

He  who  slumbered  in  the  grave. 
Is  exalted  now  to  save  ; 
Now  through  Christendom  it  rini^s 
That  the  Lamb  is  King  of  kings  : 
Hallelujah ! 

Now  He  bids  us  tell  abroad. 
How  the  lost  may  be  restored, 
How  the  penitent  forgiven. 
How  we,  too,  may  enter  heaven : 
Hallelujah  ! 

Thou  our  Paschal  Lamb  indeed, 
Christ,  to-day  Thy  people  feed ; 


a 


IN  THE  BONDS  OF  DEATH  HE  LAY.     26l 

Take  our  sins  and  guilt  away ; 
Let  us  sing  by  night  and  day  : 
Hallelujah ! 


IN  THE  BONDS   OF  DEATH   HE  LAY. 

(^Christ  lag  in  Todesbanden.') 


From  the  German  of  Dr.  Martin  Luther,  1524  (Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  132; 
Lyra  Germ.,  I.  p.  87).  Based  upon  a  Latin  hymn  of  the  ijth  century  :  "  Surrexit  Chris- 
tus  hodie"  (Daniel,  L  341 ;  and  Wackernagel,  I.  175-177,  who  gives  five  forms), 
also  upon  an  old  German  Easter  hymn:  "Christ  ist  erstanden"  (several  forms  in 
Wackernagel,  II.  43  and  726-737).  Luther's  hymn  is  a  great  improvement  upon  its 
predecessors. 

TN  the  bonds  of  Death  He  lay, 

Who  for  our  offence  was  slain ; 
But  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day, 

Christ  hath  brought  us  life  again. 
Wherefore  let  us  all  rejoice, 
Singing  loud,  with  cheerful  voice  : 
Hallelujah  ! 

Of  the  sons  of  men  was  none 

Who  could  break  the  bonds  of  Death  : 

Sin  this  mischief  dire  had  done, 
Innocent  was  none  on  earth  ; 

Wherefore  Death  grew  strong  and  bold. 

Would  all  men  in  his  prison  hold : 
Hallelujah ! 


u 


262  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Jesus  Christ,  God's  only  Son, 

Came  at  last  our  foe  to  smite  ; 
All  our  sins  away  hath  done, 

Done  away  Death's  power  and  right; 
Only  the  form  of  Death  is  left. 
Of  his  sting  he  is  bereft : 
Hallelujah  I 

That  was  a  wondrous  war  I  trow, 

When  Life  and  Death  together  fought ; 

But  Life  hath  triumphed  o'er  his  foe. 
Death  is  mocked  and  set  at  nought ; 

'Tis  even  as  the  Scripture  saith, 

Christ  through  death  has  conquered  Death : 
Hallelujah!! 

The  rightful  Paschal  Lamb  is  He, 
On  whom  alone  we  all  must  live, 

Who  to  death  upon  the  tree, 

Himself  in  wondrous  love  did  give. 

Faith  strikes  His  blood  upon  the  door. 

Death  sees,  and  dares  not  harm  us  more  : 
Hallelujah ! 

1  In  the  original,  this  description  of  the  marvellous  duel  be- 
tween Life  and  Death  is  peculiarly  forcible:  — 

"  Es  war  ein  wunderlicher  Krieg, 

Da  Tod  und  Leben  rungen  ; 
Das  Leben  das  belli  elt  den  Sieg, 

Es  hat  den  Tod  verschlungen. 
Die  Schrift  hat  verkiindet  das, 
Wie  da  ein  Tod  den  andem  frass : 

Ein  Spott  aus  dera  Tod  ist  worden.     Halleloiah." 


ERE  YET  THE  DAWN  HAS  FILLED  THE  SKIES.      263 

Let  US  keep  high  festival, 

On  this  most  blessed  Day  of  days, 

When  God  His  mercy  showed  to  all ! 
Our  Sun  is  risen  with  brightest  rays ; 

And  our  dark  hearts  rejoice  to  see 

Sin  and  night  before  Him  flee  : 
Hallelujah ! 

To  the  Supper  of  the  Lord, 

Gladly  will  we  come  to-day  : 
The  word  of  peace  is  now  restored, 

The  old  leaven  is  put  away. 
Christ  will  be  our  food  alone. 
Faith  no  life  but  His  doth  own : 
Hallelujah ! 


ERE  YET  THE   DAWN  HAS   FILLED 
THE   SKIES. 

{Friik  morgens  da  die  Sonni"  aufgeht.) 


From  the  German  of  Johann  Heermann,  1630.     The  original  has  nineteen  ilan- 
zas,  but  is  abridged  in  all  the  German  hymn-books.    Lyra  Germ.,  II.  64. 


TIj^RE  yet  the  dawn  has  filled  the  skies, 
-'— '    Behold  my  Saviour  Christ  arise. 
He  chaseth  from  us  sin  and  night, 
And  brings  us  joy  and  life  and  light : 
Hallelujah  !     Hallelujah ! 


D 


264  THE    RESURRECTION. 

0  stronger  Thou  than  Death  and  Hell ! 
Where  is  the  foe  Thou  canst  not  quell? 
What  heavy  stone  Thou  canst  not  roll 
From  off  the  prisoned  anguished  soul? 

Hallelujah  !     Hallelujah  ! 

If  Jesus  lives,  can  I  be  sad? 

1  know  He  loves  me,  and  am  glad ; 
Though  all  the  w^orld  were  dead  to  me, 
Enough,  O  Christ,  if  I  have  Thee ! 

Hallelujah  !     Hallelujah ! 

He  feeds  me,  comforts  and  defends, 
And  when  I  die  His  angel  sends 
To  bear  me  whither  He  is  gone, 
For  of  His  own  He  loseth  none : 
Hallelujah !     Hallelujah ! 

No  more  to  fear  or  grief  I  bow, 
God  and  the  angels  love  me  now ; 
The  joys  prepared  for  me  to-day 
Drive  fear  and  mourning  far  away : 
Hallelujah !     Hallelujah  ! 

Strong  Champion  !     For  this  comfort  see 
The  whole  world  brinsfs  her  thanks  to  Thee 
And  once  we,  too,  shall  raise  above 
More  sweet  and  loud  the  song  of  love : 
Hallelujah  !     Hallelujah  ! 


JESUS,    MY    REDEEMER,    LIVES.  265 

JESUS,   MY  REDEEMER,   LIVES. 

(yesus,  meine  Zuverstcht.')      vV        I     [—     1)    TJ — 


From  the  German  of  Louisa  Henrietta,  Electress  of  Brandenburg,  1649,  after 
the  death  of  her  first  son  (Schaff,  No.  488).  A  favorite  German  hymn.  Based  on 
Job  xix.  25-27,  and  i  Cor.  xv.  Translated  by  Miss  C.  Winkworth,  1855.  Other 
translations  in  the  English  Moravian  hymn-book,  and  in  Sacred  Lyrics  from  the 
German,  1859  ("Jesus,  my  eternal  trust,  And  my  Saviour,  ever  liveth"J. 


TESUS,  my  Redeemer,  lives, 
^     Christ,  my  trust,  is  dead  no  more  ! 
In  the  strength  this  knowledge  gives. 

Shall  not  all  my  fears  be  o'er  ; 
Calm,  though  death's  long  night  be  fraught 
Still  with  many  an  anxious  thought? 

Jesus,  my  Redeemer,  lives. 

And  His  life  I  soon  shall  see ; 
Bright  the  hope  this  promise  gives ; 

Where  He  is,  I  too  shall  be. 
Shall  I  fear  then?     Can  the  Head 
Rise  and  leave  the  members  dead? 

Close  to  Him  my  soul  is  bound. 
In  the  bonds  of  hope  enclasped ; 

Faith's  strong  hand  this  hold  hath  found. 
And  the  Rock  hath  firmly  grasped. 

Death  shall  ne'er  my  soul  remove 

From  her  refuge  in  Thy  love, 


■Z) 


266  THE    RESURRECTION. 

I  shall  see  Him  with  these  eyes, 
Him  whom  I  shall  surely  know ; 

Not  another  shall  I  rise ; 

With  His  love  my  heart  shall  glow  ; 

Only  there  shall  disappear 

Weakness  in  and  round  me  here. 

Ye  who  suffer,  sigh  and  moan, 

Fresh  and  glorious  there  shall  reign  ; 

Earthly  here  the  seed  is  sown, 
Heavenly  it  shall  rise  again  ; 

Natural  here  the  death  we  die, 

Spiritual  our  life  on  high. 

Body,  be  thou  of  good  cheer, 
In  thy  Saviour's  care  rejoice  ; 

Give  not  place  to  gloom  and  fear, 

Dead,  thou  yet  shalt  know  His  voice, 

When  the  final  trump  is  heard. 

And  the  deaf,  cold  grave  is  stirred. 

Laugh  to  scorn,  then,  death  and  hell, 
Fear  no  more  the  gloomy  grave ; 

Caught  into  the  air  to  dwell 

With  the  Lord  who  comes  to  save, 

We  shall  trample  on  our  foes. 

Mortal  weakness,  fear,  and  woes. 

Only  see  ye  that  your  heart 
Rise  betimes  from  earthly  lust ; 


O    RISEN    LORD  !    O    CONQUERING    KING  !        267 

Would  ye  there  with  Him  have  part, 

Here  obey  your  Lord  and  trust. 
Fix  your  hearts  beyond  the  skies, 
Whither  ye  yourselves  would  rise  ! 


O  RISEN  LORD!    O   CONQUERING 
KING! 

(O  auferstand'ner  Siegesfurst^ 


From  the  German  of  Dr.  Justus  H.  Boehmer  (a  celebrated  jurist ;  bom  at  Han- 
over, 1674;  died  at  Halle,  1749),  1706.     Translated  by  C.  Winkworth. 


r\  RISEN  Lord  !    O  conquering  King ! 
^^    O  Life  of  all  that  live  ! 
To-day  that  peace  of  Easter  bring 
Which  only  Thou  canst  give  ! 

Once  Death,  our  foe, 

Had  laid  Thee  low  : 
Now  hast  Thou  rent  his  bonds  in  twain, 
Now  art  Thou  risen  who  once  wast  slain ! 

The  power  of  Thy  great  majesty 
Bursts  rocks  and  tombs  away, 
Thy  victory  raises  us  with  Thee 
Into  the  glorious  day  ; 
Nov/  Satan's  might 
And  Death's  dark  night 


D 


268  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Have  lost  their  power  this  blessed  morn, 
And  we  to  higher  life  are  born. 

Oh  that  our  hearts  might  inly  know 

Thy  victory  over  death, 
And  gazing  on  Thy  conflict  glow 
With  eager,  dauntless  faith  ! 
Thy  quenchless  light. 
Thy  glorious  might 
Still  comfortless  and  lonely  leave 
The  soul  that  cannot  yet  believe. 

Then  break  through  our  hard  hearts  Thy  way, 

O  Jesus,  conquering  King  ! 
Kindle  the  lamp  of  faith  to-day ; 
Teach  our  faint  hearts  to  sing 
For  joy  at  length. 
That  in  Thy  strength 
We,  too,  may  rise  whom  sin  had  slain, 
And  Thine  eternal  rest  attain. 

And,  when  our  tears  for  sin  o'erflow, 

Do  Thou  in  love  draw  near, 
The  precious  gift  of  peace  bestow, 
Shine  on  us  bright  and  clear  ; 
That  so  may  we, 
O  Christ !  from  Thee 
Drink  in  the  life  that  cannot  die. 
And  keep  true  Easter  feasts  on  high. 


IJ 


c_Q 


BLEST    MORNING,    WHOSE    YOUNG    RAYS.        269 

Yes,  let  us  truly  know  within 
Thy  rising  from  the  dead ; 
And  quit  the  grave  of  death  and  sin, 
And  keep  that  gift,  our  Head, 
That  Thou  didst  leave 
For  all  who  cleave 
To  Thee  through  all  this  earthly  strife : 
So  shall  we  enter  into  life. 


BLEST  MORNING,  WHOSE  YOUNG  RAYS. 


Dr.  Isaac  Watts,  1674-1748. 


"D  LEST  morning,  whose  young  dawning  rays 
-*~^    Beheld  our  rising  God  ; 
That  saw  Him  triumph  o'er  the  dust, 
And  leave  His  dark  abode. 


In  the  cold  prison  of  a  tomb 
The  dead  Redeemer  lay, 

Till  the  revolving  skies  had  brought 
The  third,  th'  appointed  day. 

Hell  and  the  grave  unite  their  force 
To  hold  our  God,  in  vain ; 

The  sleeping  Conqueror  arose, 
And  burst  their  feeble  chain. 


270  THE    RESURRECTION. 

To  Thy  great  name,  Almighty  Lord, 

These  sacred  hours  we  pay  ; 
And  loud  hosannas  shall  proclaim 

The  triumph  of  the  day. 

Salvation  and  immortal  praise 

To  our  victorious  King  ! 
Let  heaven  and  earth,  and  rocks  and  seas. 

With  glad  hosannas  ring  ! 


WELCOME,  THOU  VICTOR  IN  THE  STRIFE  I 

(  Willkommen,  Held  im  Streite.') 


Benjamin  Schmolke,  1712  (Schaff,  No.  135).    Translated  by  C.  Winkworth. 


^"\7ELCOME,  Thou  Victor  in  the  strife, 

^        Welcome  from  out  the  cave  ! 
To-day  we  triumph  in  Thy  life 
Around  Thine  empty  grave. 

Our  enemy  is  put  to  shame. 

His  short-lived  triumph  o'er  ; 
Our  God  is  with  us,  we  exclaim. 

We  fear  our  foe  no  more. 

The  dwellings  of  the  just  resound 

With  songs  of  victory  ; 
For  in  their  midst,  Thou,  Lord,  art  found, 

And  bringest  peace  with  Thee. 


WELCOME,    THOU    VICTOR    IN    THE    STRIFE  !      27 1 

O  share  with  us  the  spoils,  we  pray. 

Thou  diedst  to  achieve  ! 
We  meet  within  Thy  house  to-day 

Our  portion  to  receive. 

And  let  Thy  conquering  banner  wave 

O'er  hearts  Thou  makest  free. 
And  point  the  path  that  from  the  grave 

Leads  heavenwards  up  to  Thee. 

We  bury  all  our  sin  and  crime 

Deep  in  our  Saviour's  tomb  ; 
And  seek  the  treasure  there,  that  time 

Nor  change  can  e'er  consume. 

We  die  with  Thee ;  oh,  let  us  live 

Henceforth  to  Thee  aright ! 
The  blessings  Thou  hast  died  to  give 

Be  daily  in  our  sight. 

Fearless  we  lay  us  in  the  tomb, 

And  sleep  the  night  away, 
Tf  Thou  art  there  to  break  the  gloom. 

And  call  us  back  to  day. 

Death  hurts  us  not ;  his  power  is  gone. 

And  pointless  are  his  darts  ; 
God's  favor  now  on  us  hath  shone, 

Joy  filleth  all  our  hearts. 


272  THE    RESURRECTION. 


GLORIOUS  HEAD,  THOU  LIVEST  NOW ! 


Part  of  a  German  hymn  of  G.  Tersteegen  (1731),  which  commences  "Will- 
komm,  verklirter  Gottessohn."  The  stanzas  here  translated  by  Miss  C.  Wink- 
worth  are  verses  7-10  ("  Verklartes  HauptI  nun  lebest  Du,"  &c.). 


r\  GLORIOUS  Head,  Thou  livest  now  ! 
^^    Let  us,  Thy  members,  share  Thy  Hfe  ; 
Canst  Thou  behold  their  need,  nor  bow 
To  raise  Thy  children  from  the  strife 
With  self  and  sin,  with  death  and  dark  distress, 
That  they  may  live  to  Thee  in  holiness? 

Earth  knows  Thee  not,  but  evermore 
Thou  livest  in  Paradise,  in  peace  ; 

Thither  my  soul  would  also  soar, 

Let  me  from  all  the  creatures  cease  : 

Dead  to  the  world,  but  to  Thy  Spirit  known, 

I  live  to  Thee,  O  Prince  of  life  !  alone. 

Break  through  my  bonds  whate'er  it  cost ; 

What  is  not  Thine  within  me  slay  ; 
Give  me  the  lot  I  covet  most. 

To  rise  as  Thou  hast  risen  to-day. 
Nought  can  I  do,  a  slave  to  death  I  pine  : 
Work  Thou  in  me,  O  Power  and  Life  Divine  I 


CHRIST    THE    LORD    IS    RISEN    TO-DAY."       273 

Work  Thou  in  me,  and  heavenward  guide 
My  thoughts  and  wishes,  that  my  heart 

Waver  no  more  nor  turn  aside, 
But  fix  for  ever  where  Thou  art. 

Thou  art  not  far  from  us  :  who  love  Thee  well 

While  yet  on  earth,  in  heaven  with  Thee  may  dwell. 


CHRIST  THE  LORD  IS  RISEN  TO-DAY." 


Charles  Wesley.     From  his  Hymns  and  Sacred  Poems,  \ti,')- 


"  /^HRIST  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day," 
^-^    Sons  of  men  and  angels  say : 
Raise  your  joys  and  triumphs  high  ; 
Sing,  ye  heavens,  and  earth  reply. 

Love's  redeeming  work  is  done, 
Fought  the  fight,  the  battle  won  ; 
Lo  !  our  Sun's  eclipse  is  o'er  ; 
Lo  !  He  sets  in  blood  no  more. 

Vain  the  stone,  the  watch,  the  seal ; 
Christ  hath  burst  the  gates  of  hell ! 
Death  in  vain  forbids  His  rise ; 
Christ  has  opened  Paradise. 


274  ^^^    RESURRECTION. 

Lives  again  our  glorious  King  ; 
Where,  O  Death  !  is  now  thy  sting? 
Once  He  died  our  souls  to  save ; 
"Where  thy  victory,  O  Grave? 

Soar  we  now  where  Christ  has  led, 
Following  our  exalted  Head  ; 
Made  like  Him,  like  Him  we  rise  ; 
Ours  the  cross,  the  grave,  the  skies. 

What  though  once  we  perished  all, 
Partners  in  our  parents'  fall? 
Second  life  we  all  receive, 
In  our  Heavenly  Adam  live.^ 

Risen  with  Him,  we  upward  move  ; 
Still  we  seek  the  things  above  ; 
Still  pursue  and  kiss  the  Son, 
Seated  on  His  Father's  throne. 

Scarce  on  earth  a  thought  bestow, 
Dead  to  all  we  leave  below ; 
Heaven  our  aim  and  loved  abode, 
Hid  our  life  with  Christ  in  God : 

Hid,  till  Christ  our  life  appear 
Glorious  in  His  members  here  ; 


1  Smoother :  — 

"  Second  life  we  now  receive, 
.  And  in  Christ  for  ever  live." 


JESUS    LIVES,    AND    SO    SHALL    I. 

Joined  to  Him,  we  then  shall  shine, 
All  immortal,  all  divine. 

Hail  the  Lord  of  earth  and  heaven ! 
Praise  to  Thee  by  both  be  given  ! 
Thee  we  greet  triumphant  now  ! 
Hail,  the  Resurrection  Thou  ! 

King  of  glory,  Soul  of  bliss  ! 
Everlasting  life  is  this, 
Thee  to  know.  Thy  power  to  prove, 
Thus  to  sing,  and  thus  to  love ! 


275 


JESUS   LIVES,  AND   SO   SHALL  L 

{jfestts  lebi,  mil  Ihm  auck  ich.^  ,  m. 


From  the  German  of  Chr.  Furchtegott  Gellert,  1757.  Another  English 
translation,  by  Frances  Elizabeth  Cox,  commencing,  "Jesus  lives  I  no  longer  now 
Can  thy  terrors.  Death,  appall  me." 


TESUS  lives,  and  so  shall  I : 
^     Death,  thy  sting  is  gone  for  ever 
He  who  deigned  for  me  to  die, 
Lives,  the  bands  of  death  to  sever. 
He  shall  raise  me  with  the  just : 
Jesus  is  my  Hope  and  Trust. 

Jesus  lives,  and  reigns  supreme  ; 
And,  His  kingdom  still  remaining. 
I  shall  also  be  with  Him, 


n 


276  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Ever  living,  ever  reigning. 
God  has  promised  ;  be  it  must : 
Jesus  is  my  Hope  and  Trust. 

Jesus  lives,  and  God  extends 
Grace  to  each  returning  sinner ; 
Rebels  He  receives  as  friends, 
And  exalts  to  highest  honor. 
God  is  true  as  He  is  just : 
Jesus  is  my  Hope  and  Trust. 

Jesus  lives,  and  by  His  grace. 
Victory  o'er  my  passions  giving, 
I  will  cleanse  my  heart  and  ways, 
Ever  to  His  glory  living. 
Th'  weak  He  raises  from  the  dust : 
Jesus  is  my  Hope  and  Trust. 

Jesus  lives,  and  I  am  sure 
Naught  shall  e'er  from  Jesus  sever : 
Satan's  wiles  and  Satan's  power. 
Pain  or  pleasure,  ye  shall  never ! 
Christian  armor  cannot  rust : 
Jesus  is  my  Hope  and  Trust. 

Jesus  lives,  and  death  is  now 
But  my  entrance  into  glory. 
Courage  !  then,  my  soul,  for  thou 
Hast  a  crown  of  life  before  thee ; 
Thou  shalt  find  thy  hopes  were  just 
Jesus  is  the  Christian's  Trust. 


tJ 


I  SAY  TO  ALL  MEN,  FAR  AND  NEAR.     277 


I  SAY  TO   ALL   MEN,  FAR  AND   NEAR. 

(/cA  sag  es  Jedem,  dass  Er  lebt.) 


From  the  German  of  Fried,  von  Hardenberg,  better  known  under  the  name  of 
NovAHSj  d.  1801.    Translated  by  C.  Winkworth. 


T  SAY  to  all  men,  far  and  near, 
-^     That  He  is  risen  again ; 
That  He  is  with  us  now  and  here, 
And  ever  shall  remain. 

And  what  I  say,  let  each  this  morn 

Go  tell  it  to  his  friend, 
That  soon  in  every  place  shall  dawn 

His  kingdom  without  end. 

Now  first  to  souls  who  thus  awake 
Seems  earth  a  fatherland  : 

A  new  and  endless  life  they  take 
With  rapture  from  His  hand. 

The  fears  of  death  and  of  the  grave 
Are  whelmed  beneath  the  sea, 

And  every  heart  now  light  and  brave 
May  face  the  things  to  be. 


u 


278  THE    RESURRECTION. 

The  way  of  darkness  that  He  trod 
To  heaven  at  last  shall  come, 

And  he  who  hearkens  to  His  word 
Shall  reach  His  Father's  home. 

Now  let  the  mourner  grieve  no  more, 
Though  his  beloved  sleep  ; 

A  happier  meeting  shall  restore 
Their  light  to  eyes  that  weep. 

Now  every  heart  each  noble  deed 
With  new  resolve  may  dare  : 

A  glorious  harvest  shall  the  seed 
In  happier  regions  bear. 

He  lives  :  His  presence  hath  not  ceased, 
Though  foes  and  fears  be  rife  ; 

And  thus  we  hail  in  Easter's  feast 
A  world  renewed  to  life  I 


e 


COME,  YE  SAINTS,  LOOK  HERE  AND  WONDER.      279 


COME,  YE  SAINTS,  LOOK  HERE   AND 
WONDER. 


Thomas  Kelly;  b.   1769,  in  Dublin;  d.  1855.     The  first  edition  of  his  hymn- 
book  (96  hymns)  appeared  in  Dubhn,  1804;  the  seventh  (with  765  hymns),  in  1853. 


/""^OME,  ye  saints,  look  here  and  wonder 
^-^    See  the  place  where  Jesus  lay ; 
He  has  burst  His  bands  asunder ; 
He  has  borne  our  sins  away ; 
Joyful  tidings ! 
Yes,  the  Lord  has  risen  to-day. 

Jesus  triumphs  !     Sing  ye  praises  ; 

By  His  death  He  overcame  : 
Thus  the  Lord  His  glory  raises, 

Thus  He  fills  His  foes  with  shame. 
Sing  ye  praises ! 
Praises  to  the  Victor's  name. 

Jesus  triumphs  !     Countless  legions 

Come  from  heaven  to  meet  their  King ; 

Soon,  in  yonder  blessed  regions. 
They  shall  join  His  praise  to  sing. 
Songs  eternal 

Shall  through  heaven's  high  arches  ring. 


:z) 


28o  THE    RESURRECTION. 


MORNING  BREAKS   UPON  THE  TOMB. 


William  Bengo  Collyer,  D.D.,  LL.D. ;  b.  1782;  minister  at  Peckhara,  Sur- 
rey; d.  1854.     He  published  a  Collection  of  Hymns,  1812. 


IV/rORNING  breaks  upon  the  tomb, 

Jesus  dissipates  its  gloom  ! 
Day  of  triumph  through  the  skies  ; 
See  the  glorious  Saviour  rise. 


Christians,  dry  your  flowing  tears. 
Chase  those  unbelieving  fears  ; 
Look  on  His  deserted  grave  ; 
Doubt  no  more  His  power  to  save. 

Ye  who  are  of  death  afraid, 
Triumph  in  the  scattered  shade  : 
Drive  your  anxious  cares  away  ; 
See  the  place  where  Jesus  lay. 

So  the  rising  sun  appears, 
Shedding  radiance  o'er  the  spheres  ; 
So  returning  beams  of  light 
Chase  the  terrors  of  the  night. 


AGAIN    THE    LORD    OF    LIFE    AND    LIGHT.        28 1 


AGAIN  THE  LORD   OF  LIFE  AND 
LIGHT. 


Anne  Letitia  Barbauld,   1743-1825.     From  her  collected  works,  published 
1S25,  by  her  niece,  Miss  Lucy  Aikin. 


\  GAIN  the  Lord  of  life  and  light 
"^^^   Awakes  the  kindling  ray. 
Unseals  the  eyelids  of  the  morn, 
And  pours  increasing  day. 

O  what  a  night  was  that  which  wrapt 
The  heathen  world  in  gloom  ! 

O  what  a  sun  which  broke  this  day 
Triumphant  from  the  tomb  ! 

This  day  be  grateful  homage  paid, 

And  loud  hosannas  sung  ; 
Let  gladness  dwell  in  every  heart, 

And  praise  on  every  tongue. 

Ten  thousand  differing  lips  shall  join 
To  hail  this  welcome  morn. 

Which  scatters  blessings  from  its  wings 
To  nations  yet  unborn. 


282  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Jesus,  the  friend  of  human  kind, 
With  strong  compassion  moved. 

Descended,  like  a  pitying  God, 
To  save  the  souls  He  loved. 

The  powers  of  darkness  leagued  in  vain 

To  bind  His  soul  in  death ; 
He  shook  their  kingdom  when  He  fell, 

With  His  expiring  breath. 

Not  long  the  toils  of  hell  could  keep 

The  Hope  of  Judah's  line  ; 
Corruption  never  could  take  hold 

On  aught  so  much  Divine. 

And  now  His  conquering  chariot  wheels 

Ascend  the  lofty  skies  ; 
While,  broke  beneath  his  powerful  cross. 

Death's  iron  sceptre  lies. 

Exalted  high  at  God's  right  hand, 

And  Lord  of  all  below. 
Through  Him  is  pardoning  love  dispensed. 

And  boundless  blessings  flow. 

And  still  for  erring,  guilty  man, 

A  brother's  pity  flows  ; 
And  still  His  bleeding  heart  is  touched 

With  memory  of  our  woes. 


tJ 


SUN,  SHINE  FORTH  IN  ALL  THY  SPLENDOR.       283 

To  Thee,  my  Saviour  and  my  King, 

Glad  homage  let  me  give ; 
And  stand  prepared,  like  Thee,  to  die. 

With  Thee  that  I  may  live. 


SUN,  SHINE  FORTH   IN  ALL  THY 
SPLENDOR. 

(  Wandle  leucktender  U7td  schoner,  Ostersonne,  detnen  Lauf.) 


From  the  German  of  C.  J.  P.  Spitta  (d.  1859),  1833.     Trsl.  by  R.  Massie,  i860. 


OUN,  shine  forth  in  all  thy  splendor, 

Joyfully  pursue  thy  way  ; 
For  thy  Lord  and  my  Defender 

Rose  triumphant  on  this  day. 
When  He  bowed  His  head,  sore  troubled 

Thou  didst  hide  thyself  in  night ; 
Shine  forth  now  with  rays  redoubled, 

He  is  risen  who  is  thy  light. 

Earth,  be  joyous  and  glad-hearted. 

Spread  out  all  thy  vernal  bloom  ; 
For  thy  Lord  is  not  departed, 

He  has  broken  through  the  tomb. 
When  the  Lord  expired,  wide-yawning 

Thy  strong  rocks  were  rent  with  fright ; 
Greet  thy  risen  Lord  this  morning. 

Bathed  in  floods  of  rosy  light. 


284  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Say,  my  soul,  what  preparation 

Makest  thou  for  this  high  day, 
When  the  God  of  thy  salvation 

Opened  through  the  tomb  a  way  ? 
Dwellest  thou  with  pure  affection 

On  this  proof  of  power  and  love  ? 
Doth  thy  Saviour's  resurrection 

Raise  thy  thoughts  to  things  above  ? 

Hast  thou,  borne  on  Faith's  strong  pinion, 

Risen  with  the  risen  Lord? 
And,  released  from  sin's  dominion, 

Into  purer  regions  soared? 
Or  art  thou,  in  spite  of  warning. 

Dead  in  trespasses  and  sin? 
Hath  to  thee  the  purple  morning 

No  true  Easter  ushered  in? 

O,  then,  let  not  death  o'ertake  thee 

By  the  shades  of  night  o'erspread  I 
See  !  thy  Lord  is  come  to  wake  thee, 

He  is  risen  from  the  dead. 
While  the  time  as  yet  allows  thee. 

Hear;  the  gracious  Saviour  cries, 
"  Sleeper,  from  thy  sloth  arouse  thee, 

To  new  life  at  once  arise." 

See,  with  looks  of  tender  pity 
He  extends  His  wounded  hands, 


SUN,  SHINE  FORTH  IN  ALL  THY  SPLENDOR.     285 

Bidding  thee,  with  fond  entreaty, 
Shake  off  sin's  enthralling  bands  : 

"Wait  not  for  some  future  meetness. 
Dread  no  punishment  from  me, 

Rouse  thyself,  and  taste  the  sweetness 
Of  the  new  life  offered  thee." 

Let  no  precious  time  be  wasted. 

To  new  life  arise  at  length : 
He  who  death  for  thee  hath  tasted, 

For  new  life  will  give  new  strength. 
Try  to  rise,  at  once  bestir  thee. 

Still  press  on  and  persevere ; 
Let  no  weariness  deter  thee, 

He  who  woke  thee  still  is  near. 

Waste  not  so  much  time  in  weighing 

When  and  where  thou  shalt  begin  ; 
Too  much  thinking  is  delaying. 

Rivets  but  the  chain  of  sin. 
He  will  help  thee  and  provide  thee 

With  a  courage  not  thine  own. 
Bear  thee  in  His  arms  and  guide  thee, 

Till  thou  learn'st  to  walk  alone. 

See  !  thy  Lord  himself  is  risen. 

That  thou  mightest  also  rise. 
And  emerge  from  sin's  dark  prison 

To  new  life  and  open  skies. 


286  THE    RESURRECTION. 

Come  to  Him  who  can  unbind  thee, 
And  reverse  thy  awful  doom  ; 

Come  to  Him,  and  leave  behind  thee 
Thy  old  life,  —  an  empty  tomb  ! 


THE  FOE  BEHIND,  THE  DEEP  BEFORE. 


By  Dr.  John  Mason  Neale  (d.  i866),  1851. 


'T^HE  foe  behind,  the  deep  before. 

Our  hosts  have  dared  and  passed  the  sea ; 
And  Pharaoh's  warriors  strew  the  shore. 
And  Israel's  ransomed  tribes  are  free. 
Lift  up,  lift  up  your  voices  now  ! 
The  whole  wide  world  rejoices  now  ! 
The  Lord  hath  triumphed  gloriously  ! 
The  Lord  shall  reign  victoriously  ! 
Happy  morrow, 
Turning  sorrow 
Into  peace  and  mirth  ! 
Bondage  ending. 
Love  descending 
O'er  the  earth ! 
Seals  assuring, 
Guards  securing, 
Watch  His  earthly  prison  : 
Seals  are  shattered, 
Guards  are  scattered, 
Christ  hath  risen ! 


THE    FOE    BEHIND,    THE    DEEP    BEFORE.        287 

No  longer  must  the  mourners  weep, 
Nor  call  departed  Christians  dead  ; 
For  death  is  hallowed  into  sleep 
And  every  grave  becomes  a  bed. 

Now  once  more 

Eden's  door 
Open  stands  to  mortal  eyes  ; 
For  Christ  hath  risen,  and  men  shall  rise. 

Now  at  last. 

Old  things  past, 
Hope  and  joy  and  peace  begin  : 
For  Christ  has  won,  and  man  shall  win. 

It  is  not  exile,  rest  on  high ; 
It  is  not  sadness,  peace  from  strife : 
To  fall  asleep  is  not  to  die ; 
To  dwell  with  Christ  is  better  life. 
Where  our  banner  leads  us. 

We  may  safely  go  ; 
Where  our  Chief  precedes  us, 

We  may  face  the  foe. 
His  right  arm  is  o'er  us. 

He  will  guide  us  through  : 
Christ  hath  gone  before  us  ; 
Christians,  follow  you ! 


D 


288 


THE    RESURRECTION. 


THE  LORD   OF  LIFE   IS   RISEN! 

^Der  Herr  ist  auferstanden^ 


From  the  German  of  Dr.  J.  P.  Lange,  Professor  in  Bonn  (editor  of  the  well- 
known  Biblework),  1851.  Translated,  at  the  request  of  the  editor,  by  Dr.  Henry 
Harbaugh,  Mercersburg,  Pa.,  who  died,  Dec.  28,  1867,  before  he  saw  this  in  print. 
Contributed. 


'T~^HE  Lord  of  life  is  risen  ! 
-^      Sing,  Easter  heralds  !  sing  : 
He  burst  His  rocky  prison, 

Wide  let  the  triumph  ring. 
Tell  how  the  graves  are  quaking, 
The  saints  their  fetters  breaking  ; 

Sing,  heralds  :  Jesus  lives  ! 

In  death  no  longer  lying. 
He  rose,  the  Prince,  to-day : 

Life  of  the  dead  and  dying. 
He  triumphed  o'er  decay. 

The  Lord  of  Life  is  risen, 

In  ruins  lies  Death's  prison. 
Its  keeper  bound  in  chains. 

We  hear,  in  Thy  blest  greeting, 
Salvation's  work  is  done  ! 

We  worship  Thee,  repeating. 
Life  for  the  dead  is  won  ! 


THE    LORD    OF    LIFE    IS    RISEN  !  289 

O  Head  of  all  believing  ! 
O  Joy  of  all  the  grieving  ! 
Unite  us,  Lord,  to  Thee. 

Here  at  Thy  tomb,  O  Jesus  ! 

How  sweet  the  morning's  breath  ! 
We  hear  in  all  the  breezes, 

Where  is  thy  sting,  O  Death  ! 
Dark  Hell  flies  in  commotion  ; 
While,  far  o'er  earth  and  ocean. 

Loud  Hallelujahs  ring  ! 

O  publish  this  salvation. 

Ye  heralds,  through  the  earth  I 
To  every  buried  nation 

Proclaim  the  day  of  birth  ! 
Till,  rising  from  their  slumbers. 
The  countless  heathen  numbers 

Shall  hail  the  risen  light. 

Hail,  hail,  our  Jesus  risen  I 

Sing,  ransomed  brethren  !  sing  ; 

Through  Death's  dark,  gloomy  prison, 
Let  Easter  chorals  ring. 

Haste,  haste,  ye  captive  legions  ! 

Come  forth  from  sin's  dark  regions. 
In  Jesus'  Kingdom  live. 


19 


290 


THE    RESURRECTION. 


THE  TOMB   IS   EMPTY. 


HoRATius  BoNAR,  D.D.     Hytmis  of  Faith  and  Hope,  Second  Series,  1862. 


nr^HE  tomb  is  empty ;  wouldst  thou  have  it  full? 
-^    Still  sadly  clasping  the  unbreathing  clay  : 
O  weak  in  faith,  O  slow  of  heart  and  dull, 
To  dote  on  darkness,  and  shut  out  the  day  ! 

The  tomb  is  empty  ;  He  who,  three  short  days, 
After  a  sorrowing  life's  long  weariness. 
Found  refuge  in  this  rocky  resting-place, 
Has  now  ascended  to  the  throne  of  bliss. 

Here  lay  the  Holy  One,  the  Christ  of  God, 
He  who  for  death  gave  death,  and  life  for  life  ; 
Our  heavenly  Kinsman,  our  true  flesh  and  blood  ; 
Victor  for  us  on  hell's  dark  field  of  strife. 

This  was  the  Bethel,  where,  on  stony  bed. 
While  angels  went  and  came  from  morn  till  even. 
Our  truer  Jacob  laid  his  wearied  head  ; 
This  was  to  him  the  very  gate  of  heaven. 

The  Conqueror,  not  the  conquered.  He  to  whom 
The  keys  of  death  and  of  the  grave  belong, 
Crossed  the  cold  threshold  of  the  stranger's  tomb, 
To  spoil  the  spoiler  and  to  bind  the  strong. 


THE    TOMB    IS    EMPTY.  29I 

Here  Death  had  reign'd ;  into  no  tomb  like  this 
Had  man's  fell  foe  aforetime  found  his  way ; 
So  grand  a  trophy  ne'er  before  was  his, 
So  vast  a  treasure,  so  divine  a  prey. 

But  now  his  triumph  ends  ;  the  rock -barred  door 
Is  opened  wide,  and  the  Great  Pris'ner  gone  : 
Look  round  and  see,  upon  the  vacant  floor. 
The  napkin  and  the  grave-clothes  lie  alone. 

Yes  :  Death's  last  hope,  his  strongest  fort  and  prison, 
Is  shattered,  never  to  be  built  again  ; 
And  He,  the  mighty  Captive,  He  is  risen, 
Leaving  behind  the  gate,  the  bar,  the  chain. 

Yes,  He  is  risen  who  is  the  First  and  Last ; 
Who  was  and  is ;  who  liveth  and  was  dead : 
Beyond  the  reach  of  death  He  now  has  passed, 
Of  the  one  glorious  Church  the  glorious  Head. 

The  tomb  is  empty ;  so,  ere  long,  shall  be 
The  tombs  of  all  who  in  this  Christ  repose ; 
They  died  with  Him  who  died  upon  the  tree, 
They  live  and  rise  with  Him  who  lived  and  rose. 

Death  has  not  slain  them  ;  they  are  freed,  not  slain. 
It  is  the  gate  of  life,  and  not  of  death. 
That  they  have  entered ;  and  the  grave  in  vain 
Has  tried  to  stifle  the  immortal  breath. 


292  THE    RESURRECTION. 

All  that  was  death  in  them  is  now  dissolved ; 
For  death  can  only  what  is  death's  destroy ; 
And,  when  this  earth's  short  ages  have  revolved, 
The  disimprisoned  life  comes  forth  with  joy. 

Their  life-long  battle  with  disease  and  pain 
And  mortal  weariness  is  over  now  : 
Youth,  health,  and  comeliness  return  again ; 
The  tear  has  left  the  cheek,  the  sweat  the  brow. 

They  are  not  tasting  death,  but  taking  rest. 
On  the  same  holy  couch  where  Jesus  lay, 
Soon  to  awake  all  glorified  and  blest. 
When  day  has  broke  and  shadows  fled  away. 


ANGELS,   ROLL  THE  ROCK  AWAY. 


From  the  Protestant- Episcopal  Collection,  prepared  by  Drs.  Burgess,  Coxe, 
Muhlenberg,  and  other  eminent  Episcopalians,  as  an  Appendix  to  the  Common- 
Prayer  Book,  and  publ.  Philad.  1861.  It  is  there  ascribed  to  "Gibbons,"  but  is  based 
upon  an  older  and  longer  hymn  of  Thomas  Scott  (a  Presbyterian  minister  with  Arian 
sentiments,  at  Lowestoft  in  Suffolk,  who  published  104  Lyric  Poems  and  Hymns, 
mostly  of  inferior  merit,  1773),  commencing:  "Trembling  earth  gave  awful  signs." 
It  was  transferred  to  the  IVarrington  Collection  (p.  77),  in  seven  verses,  with  a  "  Hal- 
lelujah" after  each  verse.  It  was  altered  by  the  Rev.  Thomas  GIBBO^fs  (a  Congrega- 
tional minister  in  England,  1720-1785),  and  passed  through  various  transformations. 
The  following  reads  almost  like  another  hymn,  but  is  at  least  equal  to  the  original. 


A  NGELS,  roll  the  rock  away ! 
•^         Death,  yield  up  the  mighty  prey  I 
See,  the  Saviour  quits  the  tomb, 
Glowing  with  immortal  bloom. 

Hallelujah  !  Hallelujah  ! 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day. 


O  JESUS  I    WHEN    I    THINK    OF    THEE. 

Shout,  ye  seraphs ;  angels,  raise 
Your  eternal  song  of  praise  ; 
Let  the  earth's  remotest  bound 
Echo  to  the  blissful  sound  : 

Hallelujah  !  Hallelujah ! 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day. 

Holy  Father,  Holy  Son, 
Holy  Spirit  Three  in  One, 
Glory  as  of  old  to  Thee 
Now  and  evermore  shall  be  ! 
Hallelujah !  Hallelujah ! 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day. 


293 


,     O  JESUS!  WHEN  I  THINK  O^  THEE.    , 


C\A^'t- 


By  George  W.  Bethune,  D.D.  ;  died  1862,  on  a  Sabbath,  in  Florence,  on  which 
he  preached  his  last  sermon.  First  published  in  his  Memoir,  by  Dr.  A.  R.  van 
I^^est,  New  York,  1867,  p.  423. 


r\  JESUS  !  when  I  think  of  Thee, 
^^     Thy  manger,  cross,  and  throne. 
My  spirit  trusts  exultingly 
In  Thee,  and  Thee  alone. 

I  see  Thee  in  Thy  weakness  first ; 

Then,  glorious  from  Thy  shame, 
I  see  Thee  death's  strong  fetters  burst. 

And  reach  heaven's  mightiest  name. 


^*«- 


A 


U 


pi^  i^*^^ 


n 


294  THE    RESURRECTION. 

In  each  a  brother's  love  I  trace 

By  power  divine  exprest, 
One  in  Thy  Father  God's  embrace, 

As  on  Thy  mother's  breast. 

For  me  Thou  didst  become  a  man, 
For  me  didst  weep  and  die  ; 

For  me  achieve  Thy  wondrous  plan, 
For  me  ascend  on  high. 

O  let  me  share  Thy  holy  birth. 
Thy  faith.  Thy  death  to  sin  I 

And,  strong  amidst  the  toils  of  earth. 
My  heavenly  life  begin. 

Then  shall  I  know  what  means  the  strain 

Triumphant  of  Saint  Paul : 
"To  live  is  Christ,  to  die  is  gain;"/ 

"  Christ  is  my  all  in  all." 


AWAKE,  GLAD  SOUL  !   AWAKE  !  AWAKE  ! 


By  John  S.  B.  Monsell,  LL.D.,  Vicar  of  Egham.  From  his  Hymns  of  Love 
and  Praise,  Loud.  1863.  "Arise,  shine;  for  thy  light  is  come,  and  the  glory  of  the 
Lord  is  risen  upon  thee."  —  Isa.  be.  1. 


A  WAKE,  glad  soul !  awake  !  awake  ! 
-^  ^    Thy  Lord  hath  risen  long, 
Go  to  His  grave,  and  with  thee  take 
Both  tuneful  heart  and  song  ; 


fl 


AWAKE,    GLAD    SOUL  !    AWAKE  !    AWAKE  !       295 

Where  life  is  waking  all  around, 

Where  love's  sweet  voices  sing, 
The  first  bright  Blossom  may  be  found 

Of  an  Eternal  Spring. 

O  Love  !  which  lightens  all  distress, 

Love,  death  cannot  destroy  : 
O  Grave  !  whose  very  emptiness 

To  Faith  is  full  of  joy ; 
Let  but  that  Love  our  hearts  supply 

From  Heaven's  exhaustless  Spring, 
Then,  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory? 

And,  Death,  where  is  thy  sting? 

The  shade  and  gloom  of  life  are  fled 

This  Resurrection-day ; 
Henceforth  in  Christ  are  no  more  dead. 

The  grave  hath  no  more  prey  : 
In  Christ  we  live,  in  Christ  we  sleep, 
'      In  Christ  we  wake  and  rise ; 
And  the  sad  tears  death  makes  us  weep, 
\      He  wipes  from  all  our  eyes. 

And  every  bird  and  every  tree 

And  every  opening  flower 
Proclaim  His  glorious  victory. 

His  resurrection-power : 
The  folds  are  glad,  the  fields  rejoice, 

With  vernal  verdure  spread  ; 


296  THE    RESURRECTION. 

The  little  hills  lift  up  their  voice, 
And  shout  that  Death  is  dead. 

Then  wake,  glad  heart !  awake  !  awake  ! 

And  seek  thy  risen  Lord, 
Joy  in  his  resurrection  take, 

And  comfort  in  His  word  ; 
And  let  thy  life,  through  all  its  ways, 

One  long  thanksgiving  be, 
Its  theme  of  joy,  its  song  of  praise, 

"Christ  died,  and  rose  for  me." 


IN   THY  GLORIOUS    RESURRECTION. 


By  Dr.  Chr.  Wordsworth,  Archdeacon  of  Westminster.     From  his  The  Holy 
Year;  or.  Hymns /or  Sundays  and  Holydays,  &c.,  3d  ed.,  Lond.  1863,  p.  105. 


TN  Thy  glorious  Resurrection, 
-^    Lord,  we  see  a  world's  erection  : 

Man  in  Thee  is  glorified  ; 
Bliss  for  which  the  Patriarchs  panted, 
Joys  by  ancient  sages  chanted. 

Now  in  Thee  are  verified. 

Oracles  of  former  ages. 
Veiled  in  dim  prophetic  pages. 
Now  lie  open  to  the  sight ; 


D 


IN    THY    GLORIOUS    RESURRECTION.  297 

Now  the  Types,  which  glimmered  darkling 
In  the  twilight  gloom,  are  sparkling 
In  the  blaze  of  noonday  light. 

Isaac  from  the  wood  is  risen  ; 
Joseph  issues  from  the  prison  ; 

See  the  Paschal  Lamb  which  saves. 
Israel  through  the  sea  is  landed  ; 
Pharaoh  and  his  hosts  are  stranded. 

And  o'er  whelmed  in  the  waves. 

See  the  cloudy  Pillar  leading. 
Rock  refreshing,  Manna  feeding  ; 

Joshua  fights,  and  Moses  prays  : 
See  the  lifted  Wave-sheaf,  cheering 
Pledge  of  Harvest-fruits  appearing, 

Joyful  dawn  of  happy  days. 

Samson  see  at  night  uptearing 
Gaza's  brazen  gates,  and  bearing 

To  the  top  of  Hebron's  hill ; 
Jonah  comes  from  stormy  surges. 
From  his  three  days'  grave  emerges, 

Bids  beware  of  coming  ill. 

Thus  Thy  Resurrection's  glory 
Sheds  a  light  on  ancient  story ; 

And  it  casts  a  forward  ray,  — 
Beacon-light  of  solemn  warning, 


298  THE    RESURRECTION. 

To  the  dawn  of  that  great  morning 
Ushering  in  the  Judgment-Day. 

Ever  since  Thy  death  and  rising 
Thou  the  nations  art  baptizing 

In  Thy  death's  simihtude  ; 
Dead  to  sin,  and  ever  dying, 
And  our  members  mortifying. 

May  we  walk  with  life  renewed  ! 

Forth,  from  Thy  first  Easter  going, 
Sundays  are  for  ever  flowing 

Onward  to  a  boundless  sea ; 
Lord,  may  they  for  Thee  prepare  us, 
On  a  holy  river  bear  us 

To  a  calm  eternity  ! 

Glory  be  to  God  the  Father, 
And  to  Him  who  all  does  gather 

In  Himself,  the  Eternal  Son, 
And  the  dead  to  life  upraises  ; 
And  to  Holy  Ghost  be  praises  : 

Glory  to  the  Three  in  One. 


SING    ALOUD,    CHILDREN  !  299 


SING  ALOUD,   CHILDREN! 


An  Easter  hymn  for  children,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  A.  R.  Thompson,  New  York,  1865. 
Contributed. 


OING  aloud,  children  !  sing  to  the  glorious  King 

Of  Redemption,  who  sits  on  the  throne ; 
For  the  seraphim  high  veil  their  faces,  and  cry, 
And  the  angels  are  praising  the  Son. 

With  His  raiment  blood-dyed,  and  with  wounds  in 
His  side, 
He  returns  like  a  chief  from  the  war, 
Where  His  champion  blow  hath  laid  death  and  hell 
low, 
And  hath  driven  destruction  afar. 

Not  a  helper  stood  by  when  the  foemen  drew  nigh. 
And  arrayed  their  leagued  hosts  for  the  fight ; 

But  He  met  them  alone,  and  the  victory  won 
By  His  own  irresistible  might. 

Yes  !  the  triumph  He  won  !    Give  the  Crucified  Son 

Hallelujahs  of  praise  ever  new  ; 
Hail  Him,  children,  and  say,  Hallelujah!   to-day; 

For  the  Saviour  is  risen  for  you. 


9 


300 


THE    RESURRECTION. 


i 


WHY  SHOULD  THESE  EYES  BE  TEARFUL? 


isjjb^) 


"The  Victory  of  Faith."     i  Cor.  xvi.  57.     By  Dr.  Ray  Palmer.      From  his 
Hjmns  0/  my  Holy  Hours,  New  York,  1S67.     Written  1867. 


w 


HY  should  these  eyes  be  tearful 

For  years  too  swiftly  fled  ? 
And  why  these  feet  be  fearful 

The  onward  path  to  tread  ? 
Why  should  a  chill  come  o'er  me 

At  thoughts  of  death  as  near? 
Or  when  I  see  before  me 

The  silent  gates  appear? 

Behold  my  Saviour  dying  ! 

I  hear  His  parting  breath  : 
Entombed  I  see  Him  lying, 

A  captive  held  of  death  ; 
Yet  peacefiilly  He  sleepeth, 

No  foe  disturbs  Him  now, 
And  love  divine  still  keepeth 

Its  impress  on  His  brow. 

But  lo  !  the  seal  is  broken  ! 

Rolled  back  the  mighty  stone  , 
In  vain  was  set  the  token 

That  friend  and  foe  should  own. 
The  weeping  Mary  bending 

Sees  not  her  Saviour  there  ; 


fl 


WHY  SHOULD  THESE  EYES  BE  TEARFUL?   3OI 

But  sons  of  light  attending 
A  joyful  message  bear. 

The  Lord  is  risen :  He  liveth, 

The  First-born  from  the  dead  : 
To  Him  the  Father  giveth 

To  be  creation's  Head. 
O'er  all  for  ever  reigning, 

Of  death  He  holds  the  keys  ; 
And  hell  —  His  might  constraining  — 

Obeys  His  high  decrees. 

Flies  now  the  gloom  that  shaded 

The  vale  of  death  to  me ; 
The  terrors  that  invaded 

Are  lost,  O  Christ,  in  Thee  ! 
The  grave,  no  more  appalling, 

Invites  me  to  repose  ; 
Asleep  in  Jesus  falling. 

To  rise  as  Jesus  rose. 

Oh  !  when  to  life  awaking. 
The  night  for  ever  gone. 
My  soul,  this  dust  forsaking. 

Puts  incorruption  on. 
Lord,  in  Thy  lustre  shining. 

In  Thine  own  beauty  drest, 
My  sun  no  more  declining, 
Thy  service  be  my  rest ! 


c 


A 


THE    ASCENSION. 


"  And  when  He  had  spoken  these  things,  while  they  beheld,  He  was  taken  up , 
and  a  cloud  received  Him  out  of  their  sight."  —  Acts  i.  9. 

"  Set  your  affection  on  things  above,  not  on  things  on  the  earth."  —  Col.  iii.  2. 


r~\  LORD  JESUS,  who  sittest  at  the  right  hand  of  God  the 
^■^^  Father,  as  King  of  saints  and  eternal  High  Priest,  far  above 
all  principality  and  power,  and  every  name  that  is  named  :  give 
us  grace,  we  beseech  Thee,  that,  being  delivered  from  the  curse 
and  power  of  sin,  we  may  ever  seek  the  things  that  are  above ; 
and,  when  Thou  who  art  our  life  shalt  appear,  we  also  may 
appear  with  Thee  in  glory  everlasting,  to  praise  and  to  enjoy 
Thee,  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  one  God,  world  with- 
out end.     Amen. 

Qui  penetravit  inferas 
Domos  Redemptor  pacifer, 
Se  fert  in  sedes  superas 
Mundi  supremus  arbiter. 

Ab  ascendente  ducitur 
Regnatura  captivitas : 
Palma  victis  asseritur. 
Mortals  immortalitas. 

Daniel,  11.  367. 


D 


fl 


& 


THE    ASCENSION. 


A  HYMN   OF   GLORY  LET  US   SING. 

(^Hymnum  canamus  glorioBi) 


By  Beda  Venerabilis,  an  Anglo-Saxon  monk  and  presbyter  at  Yarrow,  the  most 
learned  man  of  his  age,  d.  73s.  Daniel,  I.  p.  206;  Schaff  (German  translation) 
No.  143.      Translated  by  Mrs.  Charles  (Christian  Life  in  Song,  p.  141). 


\    HYMN  of  glory  let  us  sing  ; 
•"^^^    New  songs  throughout  the  world  shall  ring 
By  a  new  way  none  ever  trod, 
Christ  mounteth  to  the  throne  of  God. 

The  apostles  on  the  mountain  stand, — 
The  mystic  mount,  in  Holy  Land ; 
They,  with  the  Virgin-mother,  see 
Jesus  ascend  in  majesty. 

The  angels  say  to  the  eleven : 
"  Why  stand  ye  gazing  into  heaven  ? 
This  is  the  Saviour, —  this  is  He  ! 
Jesus  hath  triumphed  gloriously  I " 


306  THE   ASCENSION. 

They  said  the  Lord  should  come  again, 
As  these  beheld  Him  rising  then, 
Calm  soaring  through  the  radiant  sky, 
Mounting  its  dazzling  summits  high. 

May  our  affections  thither  tend, 
And  thither  constantly  ascend, 
Where,  seated  on  the  Father's  throne, 
Thee  reigning  in  the  heavens  we  own  ! 

Be  Thou  our  present  joy,  O  Lord  ! 
Who  wilt  be  ever  our  reward ; 
And,  as  the  countless  ages  flee, 
May  all  our  glory  be  in  Thee  I 


EXALT,  EXALT,  THE   HEAVENLY. 


From  the  Greek  of  St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium,  830.  This  most  prolific  of 
Greek  hymn-writers  was  a  Sicilian  by  birth  ;  became  a  monk  at  Thessalonica  and  Con- 
stantinople ;  for  some  years,  a  slave  in  Crete ;  a  friend  of  Photius,  the  Patriarch  of 
Constantinople,  whom  he  followed  into  exile.  His  hymns  are  tedious,  full  of  verbiage 
and  bombast,  and  unsuited  to  our  taste.  But  his  canon  for  Ascension  is  highly  praised 
by  Dr.  J.  M.  Nealh  as  equal  to  the  hymns  of  John  of  Damascus.  The  following  is 
the  third  ode  of  this  canon,  from  Neale's  Hymns  0/  the  EasteTyt  Church,  p.  143. 


"  T^XALT,  exalt,  the  heavenly  gates, 
"^^    Ye  chiefs  of  mighty  name  ! 
The  Lord  and  King  of  all  things  waits. 
Enrobed  in  earthly  frame  : " 


JESUS,    LORD    OF    LIFE    ETERNAL.  307 

So  to  the  higher  seats  they  cry, 
The  humbler  legions  of  the  sky. 

For  Adam,  by  the  serpent's  guile, 

Distressed,  deceived,  o'erthrown, 
Thou  left'st  Thy  native  home  awhile, 

Thou  left'st  the  Father's  throne  : 
Now  he  is  decked  afresh  with  grace, 

Thou  seek'st  once  more  the  heavenly  place. 

Glad  festal  keeps  the  earth  to-day, 

Glad  festal  heaven  is  keeping  : 
The  ascension-pomp,  in  bright  array, 

Goes  proudly  skyward  sweeping ; 
The  Lord  the  mighty  deed  hath  done. 

And  joined  the  severed  into  one. 


JESUS,   LORD   OF  LIFE  ETERNAL. 

(Jlrjaovg  6  Zuodor^f.) 


From  the  Greek  of  Joseph  of  the  Studium,  830,  by  Dr.  Nealb. 


TESUS,  Lord  of  life  eternal. 

Taking  those  He  loved  the  best. 
Stood  upon  the  mount  of  Olives, 

And  His  Own  the  last  time  blest : 
Then,  though  He  had  never  left  it, 
Sought  again  His  Father's  breast. 


308  THE    ASCENSION. 

Know,  O  world  !  this  highest  festal : 
Floods  and  oceans,  clap  your  hands  ! 

Angels,  raise  the  song  of  triumph  ; 
Make  response,  ye  distant  lands ; 

For  our  flesh  is  knit  to  Godhead, 
Knit  in  everlasting  bands. 

Loosing  death  with  all  its  terrors, 
Thou  ascendedst  up  on  high  ; 

And  to  mortals,  now  Immortal, 
Gavest  immortality, 

As  Thine  own  disciples  saw  Thee 
Mounting  Victor  to  the  sky. 


ON  EARTH  AWHILE,  'MID  SUFFERINGS. 

(/«  terris  adkuc  posUam.^ 


By  Peter  Abelard  (1079-1142),  the  celebrated  schoolman,  and  unfortunate  friend 
of  Heloise.  Translated  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  E.  A.  Washburn,  New  York,  June,  1868. 
Contributed. 


/^N  earth  awhile,  'mid  sufferings  tried, 
^^    Still  hears  the  Church,  the  holy  Bride, 
Her  Lord  from  heaven,  calling  with  daily  cry, 
Bidding  her  heart  ascend  to  Him  on  high. 

"  Draw  me,"  she  answers,  "  after  Thee  ; 
Stretch  Thy  right  hand  to  succor  me : 


TO-DAY    ABOVE    THE    SKY    HE    SOARED.         3O9 

On  winged  winds  Thou  soarest  to  the  skies  ; 
Without  Thy  wings,  how  can  I  thither  rise?" 

Ask  for  the  pinions  of  the  dove, 

To  hasten  to  that  nest  of  love  ; 
Ask  thou  the  eagle's  plumes  of  tireless  might, 
That  thou  may'st  climb  to  the  eternal  height. 

Both  wings  and  eyes  will  He  bestow, 
That  thou  the  sun's  unclouded  glow 
With  thine  undazzled  glances  may'st  behold. 
And  drink  the  blessedness  to  man  untold. 

Only  to  winged  beings  given 
Is  that  fair  home  of  upper  heaven ; 
And  there  the  holy  soul  finds  kindred  place. 
To  whom  our  God  shall  grant  the  wings  of  grace. 


TO-DAY  ABOVE  THE  SKY  HE  SOARED. 

(^Ccelos  ascendit  kodie.) 


Translated,  from  the  Latin  of  the  12th  century,  by  Dr.  Neale  (Medieeval  Hymns, 
p.  173).  Another  translation,  by  J.  W.  Hewett,  in  Shipley's  Lyra  Messianica, 
p.  419  ("  The  King  of  glory,  Christ  most  high,  Ascends  this  day  above  the  sky,"  &c.). 


'T~^0-DAY  above  the  sky  He  soared 

■^       Hallelujah ! 
The  King  of  glory,  Christ  the  Lord  ! 
Hallelujah ! 


:z) 


3IO  THE   ASCENSION. 

He  sitteth  on  the  Father's  hand  : 

Hallelujah  ! 
And  ruleth  sky  and  sea  and  land  : 

Hallelujah ! 

Now  all  things  have  their  end  foretold  : 

Hallelujah  ! 
In  holy  David's  song  of  old : 

Hallelujah  I 

My  Lord  is  seated  with  the  Lord : 

Hallelujah  ! 
Upon  the  throne  of  God  adored  : 

Hallelujah ! 

In  this  great  triumph  of  our  King, 

Hallelujah  ! 
To  God  on  high  all  praise  we  bring : 

Hallelujah  I 

To  Him  all  thanks  and  laud  give  we : 

Hallelujah ! 
The  ever-blessed  Trinity  I 

Hallelujah ! 


O    CHRIST,    WHO    HAST    PREPARED    A    PLACE  !     31I 

O   CHRIST,  WHO   HAST  PREPARED. 

(^Nobis  Olymfo  redditus.) 


From  the  Latin,  by  the  Rev.  J.  Chandler  (Hymns  0/  the  Primitive  Church, 
pp.  86  and  204). 


/^  CHRIST,  who  hast  prepared  a  place 
^-^    For  us  around  Thy  throne  of  grace, 
We  pray  Thee,  lift  our  hearts  above, 
And  draw  them  with  the  cords  of  love  ! 

Source  of  all  good,  Thou,  gracious  Lord, 
Art  our  exceeding  great  reward  ; 
How  transient  is  our  present  pain, 
How  boundless  our  eternal  gain  ! 

With  open  face  and  joyful  heart, 
We  then  shall  see  Thee  as  Thou  art : 
Our  love  shall  never  cease  to  glow. 
Our  praise  shall  never  cease  to  flow. 

Thy  never-failing  grace  to  prove, 
A  surety  of  Thine  endless  love, 
Send  down  Thy  Holy  Ghosj.,  to  be 
The  raiser  of  our  souls  to  Thee. 


D 


U 


312  THE    ASCENSION. 

O  future  Judge,  Eternal  Lord, 
Thy  name  be  hallowed  and  adored  ! 
To  God  the  Father,  King  of  heaven, 
And  Holy  Ghost,  like  praise  be  given. 


O  JESU,   WHO  ART   GONE   BEFORE. 

(O  Chrtsie,  qui  noster poli.^ 


From  the  Latin,  by  J.  Chandler  (1.  c.  p.  87). 


f~\  JESU,  who  art  gone  before 
^^  To  Thy  blest  realms  of  light, 
Oh,  thither  may  our  spirits  soar, 
And  wing  their  upward  flight ! 

Make  us  to  those  delights  aspire, 
Which  spring  from  love  to  Thee, 

Which  pass  the  carnal  heart's  desire. 
Which  faith  alone  can  see : 

When  to  His  saints,  as  their  reward, 

Himself  Jehovah  gives. 
And  thus  its  all-sufficient  Lord 

The  faithful  soul  receives. 

To  guide  us  to  Thy  glories,  Lord, 

To  lift  us  to  the  sky, 
Oh,  may  Thy  Holy  Ghost  be  poured 

Upon  us  from  on  high  ! 


TO-DAY    OUR    LORD    WENT    UP    ON    HIGH.       313 

Praise  to  the  Father  and  the  Son, 

Who  dwells  aloft  in  heaven  : 
And  to  the  Spirit,  Three  in  One, 

Let  equal  praise  be  given. 


TO-DAY  OUR  LORD  WENT   UP. 

{Auf  diesen  Tag  bedenken  tvir.^ 


From  the  German  of  Johann  Zwick  (the  editor  of  the  first  German  Reformed 
Hymn-Book,  Zurich,  1540).  The  best  hymn  of  this  author.  Translated  by  Miss  C 
WiNKWORTH  (Lyra  Germ.,  H.  73).     The  original  has  six  stanzas. 


'TnO-DAY  our  Lord  went  up  on  high. 

And  so  our  songs  we  raise : 
To  Him  with  strong  desire  we  cry 

To  keep  us  in  His  grace ; 
For  we  poor  sinners  here  beneath 
Are  dwelling  still  'mid  woe  and  death. 
All  hope  in  Him  we  place : 
Hallelujah  !  Hallelujah  ! 

Thank  God  that  now  the  way  is  made  ! 

The  cherub-guarded  door. 
Through  Him  on  whom  our  help  was  laid, 

Stands  open  evermore ; 
Who  knoweth  this  is  glad  at  heart, 
And  swift  prepares  him  to  depart 

Where  Christ  is  gone  before  : 
Hallelujah  !  Hallelujah  ! 


314  THE    ASCENSION. 

Our  heavenward  course  begins  when  we 
Have  found  our  Father,  God, 

And  join  us  to  His  sons,  and  flee 
The  paths  that  once  we  trod  ; 

For  He  looks  down,  and  they  look  up  : 

They  feel  His  love,  they  live  in  hope, 
Until  they  meet  their  Lord  : 
Hallelujah !  Hallelujah  ! 

Then  all  the  depths  of  joy  that  lie 

In  this  day  we  shall  know, 
When  we  are  made  like  Him  on  high, 

Whom  we  confess  below  ; 
When,  bathed  in  life's  eternal  flood, 
We  dwell  with  Him,  the  highest  Good : 

God  grant  us  this  to  know ! 
Hallelujah  !  Hallelujah  ! 


SINCE  CHRIST   IS   GONE  TO   HEAVEN. 

{Allein  auf  Christi  Himmelfakrt.) 


JosuA  Wegelin,  1637.    Translated  from  the  German,  by  C.  Winkworth  (Lyra 
Germ.,  II.  75).  

'    OINCE  Christ  is  gone  to  heaven.  His  home 
*^    I,  too,  must  one  day  share ; 
And  in  this  hope  I  overcome 
All  anguish,  all  despair; 


D 


U 


n 


LO,    GOD    TO    HEAVEN   ASCENDETH  !  315 

For  where  the  Head  is,  well  we  know 
The  members  He  hath  left  below 
\      In  time  He  gathers  there. 

Since  Christ  hath  reached  His  glorious  throne 

And  mighty  gifts  are  His, 
My  heart  can  rest  in  heaven  alone  ; 

On  earth  my  Lord  I  miss : 
I  long  to  be  with  Him  on  high, 
And  heart  and  thoughts  would  hourly  fly 

Where  now  my  treasure  is. 

From  Thy  ascension  let  such  grace, 

My  Lord,  be  found  in  me, 
That  steadfast  faith  may.  guide  my  ways 

Unfaltering  up  to  Thee, 
And  at  Thy  voice  I  may  depart 
With  joy  to  dwell  where  Thou,  Lord,  art; 

Oh,  grant  this  prayer  to  me  ! 


LO,   GOD  TO   HEAVEN  ASCENDETH! 

(^Gott fiihret  auf  gen  Himmel.') 


From  the  German  of  Gottfried  Wilhelm  Sacek  (1635-1699).  "God  is  gone 
up  with  a  shout,  the  Lord  with  the  sound  of  a  trumpet."  —  Ps.  xlvii.  5.  Trsl.  by  Miss 
Frances  Elizabeth  Cox  {Sacred  Hymns  front  the  German,  Lend.  1841,  p.  39). 


T    O,  God  to  heaven  ascendeth  ! 

-^^   Throughout  its  regions  vast. 

With  shouts  triumphant  blendeth 

The  trumpet's  thrilling  blast : 


n 


316  THE   ASCENSION. 

Sing  praise  to  Christ  the  Lord, 
Sing  praise  with  exultation, 
King  of  each  heathen  nation  ! 

The  God  of  Hosts  adored ! 

With  joy  is  heaven  resounding, 
Christ's  glad  return  to  see ; 

Behold  the  saints  surrounding 
The  Lord  who  set  them  free  : 

Bright  myriads  thronging  come  ; 
The  cherub  band  rejoices, 
And  loud  seraphic  voices 

Welcome  Messiah  home. 

No  more  the  way  is  hidden, 

Since  Christ  our  Head  arose  : 
No  more  to  man  forbidden 

The  road  to  heaven  that  goes. 
Our  Lord  is  gone  before. 

But  here  He  will  not  leave  us  ; 

In  heaven  He'll  soon  receive  us : 
He  opens  wide  the  door. 

Christ  is  our  place  preparing, 
To  heaven  we,  too,  shall  rise, 

And,  joys  angelic  sharing. 
Be  where  our  treasure  lies  : 

There  may  each  heart  be  found  ! 
Where  Jesus  Christ  has  entered. 


HOSANNA    TO    THE    PRINCE    OF    LIGHT  !  3x7 

There  let  our  hopes  be  centred, 
Our  course  still  heavenward  bound  ! 

May  we,  His  servants,  thither 

In  heart  and  mind  ascend ; 
And  let  us  sing  together, 

"We  seek  Thee,  Christ  our  Friend, 
Thee,  God's  Anointed  Son  I 

Our  Life,  and  Way  to  heaven, 

To  whom  all  power  is  given, 
Our  Joy  and  Hope  and  Crown  ! " 

When,  on  our  vision  dawning, 

Will  break  the  wished-for  hour 
Of  that  all-glorious  morning, 

When  Christ  shall  come  with  power? 
O  come,  thou  welcome  Day  ! 

When  we,  our  Saviour  meeting, 

His  second  advent  greeting, 
Shall  hail  the  heaven-sent  ray. 


HOSANNA  TO  THE  PRINCE   OF   LIGHT  I 


Isaac  Watts,  1709. 


TTOSANNA  to  the  Prince  of  light, 
■^  -^   Who  clothed  Himself  in  clay  ; 
Entered  the  iron  gates  of  death, 
And  tore  the  bars  away. 


3l8  THE    ASCENSION. 

Death  is  no  more  the  king  of  dread, 

Since  our  Immanuel  rose  ; 
He  took  the  tyrant's  sting  away, 

And  conquered  all  our  foes. 

See,  how  the  Conqueror  mounts  aloft, 

And  to  His  Father  flies  ! 
With  scars  of  honor  in  His  flesh, 

And  triumph  in  His  eyes. 

There  our  exalted  Saviour  reigns. 
And  scatters  blessings  down 

From  the  right  hand  of  Majesty, 
On  the  celestial  throne. 

Raise  your  devotion,  mortal  tongues. 

To  reach  this  blest  abode  ; 
Sweet  be  the  accents  of  your  songs 

To  our  incarnate  God. 

Bright  angels,  strike  your  loudest  strings, 

Your  sweetest  voices  raise  I 
Let  heaven,  and  all  created  things, 

Sound  our  Immanuel's  praise  ! 


D 


HEAVENWARD    DOTH    OUR  JOURNEY    TEND.      319 


HEAVENWARD   DOTH   OUR    JOURNEY. 

{Hi7nmelan  geht  unsre  Bahft.') 


Benjamin  Schmolke,  1731.     Translated  by  Miss  C.  Winkworth  (Lyra  Germ., 
n.  439)- 


TTEAVENWARD  doth  our  journey  tend, 
-^  -*-    We  are  strangers  here  on  earth ; 
Through  the  wilderness  we  wend 

Towards  the  Canaan  of  our  birth. 
Here  we  roam  a  pilgrim  band, 
Yonder  is  our  native  land. 

Heavenward  stretch,  my  soul,  thy  wings. 
Heavenly  nature  canst  thou  claim  ; 

There  is  nought  of  earthly  things 
Worthy  to  be  all  thine  aim  : 

Every  soul  whom  God  inspires, 

Back  to  Him  its  Source  aspires. 

Heavenward  !  doth  His  Spirit  cry, 
When  I  hear  Him  in  His  Word, 

Showing  thus  the  rest  on  high. 
Where  I  shall  be  with  my  Lord  : 

When  His  Word  fills  all  my  thought, 

Oft  to  heaven  my  soul  is  caught. 


D 


vj 


320  THE   ASCENSION. 

Heavenward  ever  would  I  haste, 
When  Thy  Table,  Lord,  is  spread  ; 

Heavenly  strength  on  earth  I  taste, 
Feeding  on  the  Living  Bread. 

Such  is  e'en  on  earth  our  fare 

Who  Thy  marriage  feast  shall  share. 

Heavenwards  !  faith  discerns  the  prize 

That  is  waiting  us  afar ; 
And  my  heart  would  swiftly  rise, 

High  o'er  sun  and  moon  and  star, 
To  that  Light  behind  the  veil 
Where  all  earthly  splendors  pale. 

Heavenward,  Death  shall  lead  at  last. 
To  the  home  where  I  would  be  : 

All  my  sorrows  overpast, 

I  shall  triumph  there  with  Thee, 

Jesus,  who  hast  gone  before, 

That  we,  too,  might  heavenward  soar. 

Heavenwards  !  Heavenwards  !  only  this 
Is  my  watchword  on  the  earth ; 

For  the  love  of  heavenly  bHss 
Counting  all  things  little  worth. 

Heavenward  all  my  being  tends. 

Till  in  heaven  my  journey  ends. 


9 


cfi 


CONQUERING  PRINCE  AND  LORD  OF  GLORY.   32I 


CONQUERING  PRINCE  AND   LORD   OF 
.  GLORY. 

(^Siegesfurst  und  Ehrenkonig^ 


From  the  German  of  Gerhard  Tersteegen,  a  deeply  spiritual  hymnist,  1731. 
Translated  by  Miss  C.  Winkworth  {Lyra  Germ.,  II.  76;  changed,  1862). 


CONQUERING  Prince  and  Lord  of  glory, 
Majesty  enthroned  in  light ! 
All  the  heavens  are  bowed  before  Thee, 
Far  beyond  them  spreads  Thy  might. 
Shall  I  fall  not  at  Thy  feet. 
And  my  heart  with  rapture  beat, 
Now  Thy  glory  is  displayed, 
Thine  ere  yet  the  worlds  were  made  ? 

As  I  watch  Thee  far  ascending 

To  the  right  hand  of  the  throne. 
See  the  host  before, Thee  bending. 

Praising  Thee  in  sweetest  tone, 
Shall  I  not,  too,  at  Thy  feet 
Hear  the  angels'  strain  repeat,  , 
And  rejoice  that  heaven  doth  sing 
With  the  triumph  of  my  King? 


tj 


322  THE   ASCENSION. 

Power  and  Spirit  are  overflowing  ; 

On  me  also  be  they  poured : 
Every  hinderance  overthrowing, 

Make  Thy  foes  Thy  footstool,  Lord. 
Yea,  let  earth's  remotest  end 
To  Thy  righteous  sceptre  bend  ; 
Make  Thy  way  before  Thee  plain. 
O'er  all  hearts  and  spirits  reign. 

Lo,  Thy  presence  now  is  filling 

All  Thy  Church  in  every  place  ! 
Fill  my  heart,  too  :  make  me  willing 

In  this  season  of  Thy  grace. 
Come,  Thou  King  of  glory  !  come  : 
Deign  to  make  my  heart  Thy  home  : 
There  abide  and  rule  alone. 
As  upon  Thy  heavenly  throne. 

Thou  art  leaving  me,  yet  bringing 
God  and  heaven  most  inly  near : 
From  this  earthly  life  upspringing. 
As  though  still  I  saw  Thee  here, 
Let  my  heart,  transplanted  hence, 
Strange  to  earth  and  time  and  sense, 
Dwell  with  Thee  in  heaven  e'en  now. 
Where  our  only  joy  art  Thou  ! 


HAIL   THE    DAY    THAT    SEES    HIM    RISE  !        323 


HAIL  THE  DAY  THAT  SEES   HIM  RISE! 


Rev.  Charles  Weslev.    Yxorci\\\%  Hyinns  and  Sacred  Poems,  iTy).    XwHymits 
Ancient  and  Modern,  this  hymn  is  so  radically  changed  as  to  be  hardly  recognizable. 


T  TAIL  the  day  that  sees  Him  rise, 

Ravished  from  our  wishful  eyes  ! 
Christ,  awhile  to  mortals  given,^ 
Re-ascends  His  native  heaven. 

There  the  pompous  triumph  waits  : 
"Lift  your  heads,  eternal  gates, 
Wide  unfold  the  radiant  scene  ; 
Take  the  King  of  glory  in  !  " 

Circled  round  with  angel  powers, 
Their  triumphant  Lord  and  ours. 
Conqueror  over  death  and  sin  ; 
Take  the  King  of  glory  in  I 

Him  though  highest  heaven  receives, 
Still  He  loves  the  earth  He  leaves ; 
Though  returning  to  His  throne, 
Still  He  calls  mankind  His  own. 


1  Or:  — 

Christ,  the  Lamb  for  sinners  given. 


n 


324  THE    ASCENSION. 

See,  He  lifts  His  hands  above  ! 
See,  He  shows  the  prints  of  love  ! 
Hark  !  His  gracious  lips  bestow 
Blessing-s  on  His  Church  below  ! 

Still  for  us  His  death  He  pleads ; 
Prevalent  He  intercedes ; 
Near  Himself  prepares  our  place, 
Harbinger  of  human  race. 

Master  (will  we  ever  say), 
Taken  from  our  head  to-day, 
See  Thy  faithful  servants,  see, 
Ever  gazing  up  to  Thee. 

Grant,  though  parted  from  our  sight, 
High  above  yon  azure  height, 
Grant  our  hearts  may  thither  rise. 
Following  Thee  beyond  the  skies. 

Ever  upward  let  us  move, 
Wafted  on  the  wings  of  love  ; 
Looking  when  our  Lord  shall  come. 
Longing,  gasping  after  home. 

There  we  shall  with  Thee  remain. 
Partners  of  Thy  endless  reign  ; 
There  Thy  face  unclouded  see. 
Find  our  heaven  of  heavens  in  Thee. 


n 


OUR    LORD    IS    RISEN    FROM    THE    DEAD.        325 


OUR  LORD  IS  RISEN  FROM  THE  DEAD. 


Rev.  Charles  Wesley,  1739. 


/^UR  Lord  is  risen  from  the  dead : 
^-^^  Our  Jesus  is  gone  up  on  high ; 
The  powers  of  hell  are  captive  led, 

Dragged  to  the  portals  of  the  sky. 
There  His  triumphant  chariot  waits, 

And  angels  chant  the  solemn  lay  : 
Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  heavenly  gates ; 

Ye  everlasting  doors,  give  way  ! 

Loose  all  your  bars  of  massy  light, 

And  wide  unfold  the  ethereal  scene : 
He  claims  these  mansions  as  His  right ; 

Receive  the  King  of  glory  in  ! 
Who  is  the  King  of  glory?  who? 

The  Lord  who  all  our  foes  o'ercame  ; 
The  world,  sin,  death,  and  hell  o'erthrew  ; 

And  Jesus  is  the  Conqueror's  name. 

Lo  !  His  triumphant  chariot  waits. 
And  angels  chant  the  solemn  lay  : 

Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  heavenly  gates  ; 
Ye  everlasting  doors,  give  way  ! 


326  THE    ASCENSION. 

Who  is  the  King  of  glory?  who? 

The  Lord,  of  glorious  power  possessed  ; 
The  king  of  saints  and  angels  too  ; 

God  over  all,  for  ever  blest ! 


ALL  HAIL  THE  POWER  OF  JESUS'  NAME ! 


The  Coronation.  By  the  Rev.  Edward  Perronet,  for  some  time  an  associate 
of  the  Wesleys ;  afterwards  employed  by  Lady  Huntingdon  ;  then  pastor  of  a  dissent- 
ing congregation ;  d.  at  Canterbury,  in  1792.  He  published,  in  1785,  a  rare  small 
volume  of  Occasiotial  Verses,  Moral  and  Social,  a  copy  of  which  is  preserved  in  the 
library  of  the  British  Museum.  This  hymn  is  full  of  joyous  inspiration,  and  is  very 
popular  in  America.  It  is  often  erroneously  ascribed  to  Duncan,  and  others,  and  arbi- 
trarily changed,  or  abridged.  I  follow,  with  a  few  slight  exceptions,  the  text  of 
Dr.  Charles  Rogers,  p.  459,  who  seems  to  have  taken  it  from  the  copy  in  the 
British  Museum. 


A  LL  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name  ! 
■*-^   Let  angels  prostrate  fall ; 
Bring  forth  the  royal  diadem, 
To  crown  Him  Lord  of  all ! 

Let  high-born  seraphs  tune  the  lyre. 

And,  as  they  tune  it,  fall 
Before  His  face,  who  tunes  their  choir. 

And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all ! 

Crown  Him,  ye  morning-stars  of  light ! 
He  ^  fixed  this  floating  ball ; 

'  Rogers:  "Who." 


U 


& 


ALL    HAIL    THE    POWER    OF  JESUS'    NAME  !      327 

Now  hail  the  strength  of  Israel's  might, 
And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all  I 

Crown  Him,  ye  martyrs  of  our  God, 

Who  from  His  altar  call ; 
Extol  the  Stem  of  Jesse's  rod, 

And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all ! 

Ye  seed  of  Israel's  chosen  race, 

Ye  ransomed  of  the  fall. 
Hail  Him  who  saves  you  by  His  grace. 

And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all ! 

Hail  Him,  ye  heirs  of  David's  line,  — 
Whom  David,  Lord  did  call,  — 

The  God  incarnate,  Man  Divine, 
And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all ! 

Sinners,  whose  love  can  ne'er  forget 

The  wormwood  and  the  gall. 
Go,  spread  your  trophies  at  His  feet. 

And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all ! 

Let  every  tribe  and  every  tongue 

That  hear  the  Saviour's  call,^ 
.  Now  shout  in  universal  song, 
And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all !  ^ 


1  Rogers  :  "That  bound  creation's  call."    Others  :  "  On  this 
terrestrial  ball." 

2  Rogers:  "The  crowned  Lord  of  all." 


D 


-4 


328  THE    ASCENSION. 


SOFT   CLOUD,    THAT,   WHILE   THE 
BREEZE   OF   MAY. 


By  the  Rev.  John  Keble,  D.D.  (d.  1866).  From  his  Christian  Year  (31st  ed., 
1857)-  "  Why  stand  ye  gazing  up  into  heaven  ?  This  same  Jesus,  which  is  taken  up 
from  you  into  heaven,  shall  so  come  in  like  manner  as  ye  have  seen  Him  go  into 
heaven."  —  Acts'\.  11. 


OOFT  cloud,  that,  while  the  breeze  of  May 
^^    Chants  her  glad  matins  in  the  leafy  arch, 
Draw'st  thy  bright  veil  across  the  heavenly  way, 
Meet  pavement  for  an  angel's  glorious  march  : 

My  soul  is  envious  of  mine  eye, 
That  it  should  soar  and  glide  with  thee  so  fast, 
The  while  my  grovelling  thoughts  half-buried  lie, 
Or  lawless  roam  around  this  earthly  waste. 

Chains  of  my  heart,  avaunt,  I  say : 
I  will  arise,  and  in  the  strength  of  love 
Pursue  the  bright  track  ere  it  fade  away, 
My  Saviour's  pathway  to  His  home  above. 

Sure,  when  I  reach  the  point  where  earth 
Melts  into  nothing  from  th'  uncumbered  sight, 
Heaven  will  o'ercome  th'  attraction  of  my  birth, 
And  I  shall  sink  in  yonder  sea  of  light : 


SOFT    CLOUD,    THAT,    WHILE    THE    BREEZE.      329 

Till  resting  by  th'  incarnate  Lord, 
Once  bleeding,  now  triumphant  for  my  sake, 
I  mark  Him,  —  how,  by  seraph  hosts  adored. 
He  to  earth's  lowest  cares  is  still  awake. 

The  sun  and  every  vassal  star, 
All  space,  beyond  the  soar  of  angel  wings, 
Wait  on  His  word ;  and  yet  He  stays  His  car 
For  every  sigh  a  contrite  suppliant  brings. 

He  listens  to  the  silent  tear, 
For  all  the  anthems  of  the  boundless  sky  ; 
And  shall  our  dreams  of  music  bar  our  ear 
To  His  soul-piercing  voice  for  ever  nigh  ? 

Nay,  gracious  Saviour ;  but  as  now 
Our  thoughts  have  traced  Thee  to  Thy  glory  throne, 
So  help  us  ever  more  with  Thee  to  bow 
Where  human  sorrow  breathes  her  lowly  moan. 

We  must  not  stand  to  gaze  too  long, 
Though  on  unfolding  Heaven  our  gaze  we  bend. 
Where,  lost  behind  the  bright  angelic  throng. 
We  see  Christ's  entering  triumph  slow  ascend. 

No  fear  but  we  shall  soon  behold. 
Faster  than  now  it  fades,  that  gleam  revive. 
When,  issuing  from  His  cloud  of  fiery  gold, 
Our  wasted  frames  feel  the  true  Sun,  and  live. 


330 


THE    ASCENSION. 


Then  shall  we  see  Thee  as  Thou  art, 
For  ever  fixed  in  no  unfruitful  gaze, 
But  such  as  lifts  the  new-created  heart, 
Age  after  age,  in  worthier  love  and  praise. 


;c 


LAMB,   THE   ONCE   CRUCIFIED! 

(^Lamm,  das  gelitten,  uiid  Lowe,  der  siegreich  genmgeii.') 


From  the  German  of  Mrs.  Dr.  Meta  Heusser-Schweizek,  the  most  gifted  and 
sweetest  of  female  poets  in  the  German  tongue;  born,  1797,  at  Hirzel,  near  Zurxh, 
Switzerland,  where  she  resides,  in  modest  retirement,  to  this  day.  This  truly  sublime 
hymn  is  the  second  part  of  a  larger  hymn  composed  in  spring,  1831,  and  has  passed 
into  several  German  hymn-books  (Schaff,  Nos.  149  and  3SS).  Translated,  April, 
186S,  at  the  request  of  the  editor,  by  the  Rev.  Professor  Thomas  C.  Porter,  of 
Lafayette  College,  Easton,  Pa.,  who  has  successfully  overcome  the  unusual  difficulties 
of  the  German  dactylic  metre  (adapted  to  the  favorite  choral,  "  Lobe  den  Herren, 
den  m'dchtigen  Kbnig  der  Ehren  ").  Albert  Knapp  has  edited  a  collection  of  poems 
of  Mrs.  H.,  under  the  title,  Lzeder  ei?ier  Verborgenen,  Leipz.  1858;  a  second  collec- 
tion, under  her  proper  name,  appeared  1867.  They  are  apples  of  gold  in  baskets  of 
silver,  and  exhibit  a  rare  union  of  lofty  genius  and  humble  piety. 


T    AMB,  the   once    crucified !    Lion,    by  triumph 
-^^    surrounded  ! 

Victim   all  bloody,  and   Hero,  who  hell  hast  con- 
founded ! 

Pain-riven  Heart, 
That  from  earth's  deadliest  smart 
O'er  all  the  heavens  hast  bounded  !  ^ 


\  The  first  stanza  is  truly  classical  in  thought  and  expression, 
but  almost  untranslatable  :  — 


LAMB,    THE    ONCE    CRUCIFIED  ! 


33^ 


Thou   in   the  depths  wert  to   mortals   the    highest 

revealing, 
God  in  humanity  veiled.  Thy  full  glory  concealing ! 
"  Worthy  art  Thou  ! " 
Shouteth  eternity  now. 
Praise  to  Thee  endlessly  pealing. 

Heavenly   Love,    in   the   language   of    earth    past 

expression ! 
Lord  of  all  worlds,  unto  whom  every  tongue  owes 
confession  ! 

Didst  Thou  not  go. 
And,  under  sentence  of  woe. 
Rescue  the  doomed  by  transgression? 

O'er   the    abyss   of  the     grave,     and    its    horrors 

infernal, 
Victory's  palm  Thou  art  waving  in  triumph  super- 
nal : 

Who  to  Thee  cling, 
Circled  by  hope,  shall  now  bring 
Out  of  its  gulf  life  eternal. 


"  Lamm,  das  gelitten,  und  Lowe,  der  siegreich  gerungen  1 
Blutendes  Opfer,  und  Held,  der  die  Hdlle  bezwungen  I 
Brechendes  Herz, 
Das  sich  aus  irdischem  Schmerz 
Ueber  die  Himmel  geschwungen ! " 

The  whole  range  of  German  poetry  furnishes  no  finer  speci- 
men of  dactylic  versification.  What  sublime  contrasts,  and  what 
noble  language  I 


D 


332  THE    ASCENSION. 

Son  of  Man,  Saviour,  in  whom,  with  deep  tender- 
ness blending, 
Infinite  Pity  to  wretches  her  balm  is  extending, 
On  Thy  dear  breast, 
Weary  and  numb,  they  may  rest. 
Quickened  to  joy  never  ending. 

Strange  condescension  !    immaculate  Purity,  deign- 
ing 
Union  with  souls  where  the  vilest  pollution  is  reign- 
ing, 

Beareth  their  sin, 
Seeketh  the  fallen  to  win, 
Even  the  lowest  regaining. 

Sweetly  persuasive,  to  me,  too,  Thy  call  has  re- 
sounded ; 
Melting   my    heart    so    obdurate,    Thy    love    has 
abounded ; 

Back  to  the  fold, 
Led  by  Thy  hand,  I  behold 
Grace  all  my  path  has  surrounded. 

Bless  thou  the  Lord,  O  my  soul !  who,  thy  pardon 

assuring. 
Heals  thy  diseases,  and  grants  thee  new  life  ever 
during, 

Joy  amid  woe. 
Peace  amid  strife  here  below, 
Unto  thee  ever  securing. 


LAMB,    THE    ONCE    CRUCIFIED  !  333 

Upward,  on  pinions  celestial,  to  regions  of  pleasure, 
Into  the  land  whose  bright  glories  no  mortal  can 
measure, 

Strong  hope  and  love 
Bear  Thee,  the  fulness  to  prove 
Of  Thy  salvation's  rich  treasure. 

There,  as  He  is,  we  shall  view  Him,  with  rapture 

abiding, 
Cheered  even  here  by  His  glance,  when  the  dark- 
ness dividing 

Lets  down  a  ray. 
Over  the  perilous  way 
Thousands  of  wanderers  guiding. 

Join,  O  my  voice  I  the  vast  chorus,  with  trembling 

emotion : 
Chorus  of  saints,  who,  though  sundered  by  land 
and  by  ocean, 

With  sweet  accord 
Praise  the  same  glorious  Lord, 
One  in  their  ceaseless  devotion. 

Break  forth,   O  nature  !  in  song,  when  the  spring 

tide  is  nighest ; 
World  that  hast  seen  His  salvation,  no  longer  thou 
sighest ! 

Shout,  starry  train. 
From  your  empyreal  plain, 
"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest !  " 


334  THE    ASCENSION. 


SEE,   THE   CONQUEROR. 


By  Chr.  Wordsworth,  D.D.,  Archdeacon  of  Westminster.     From  his  HymTts 
for  the  Holy  Year,  Lend.  1863,  p.  129.     Verses  6,  7,  and  10  (a  doxology)  are  omitted. 


OEE,  the  Conqueror  mounts  in  triumph, 
*^    See  the  King  in  royal  state, 
Riding  on  the  clouds  His  chariot, 

To  His  heavenly  palace-gate ; 
Hark,  the  choirs  of  angel-voices 

Joyful  Hallelujahs  sing  ! 
And  the  portals  high  are  lifted, 

To  receive  their  heavenly  King. 

Who  is  this  that  comes  in  glory, 

With  the  trump  of  Jubilee  ? 
Lord  of  battles,  God  of  armies, 

He  has  gained  the  victory ; 
He  w^ho  on  the  cross  did  suffer. 

He  who  from  the  grave  arose, 
He  has  vanquished  sin  and  Satan, 

He  by  death  has  spoiled  His  foes. 

Now  our  heavenly  Aaron  enters. 
With  His  blood  within  the  veil ; 

Joshua  now  is  come  to  Canaan, 
And  the  kings  before  Him  quail ; 

Now  He  plants  the  tribes  of  Israel 
In  their  promit^ed  resting-place  ; 


ft 


SEE,    THE    CONQUEROR.  335 

Now  our  great  Elijah  offers 
Double  portion  of  His  grace. 

Thou  hast  raised  our  human  nature 

On  the  clouds  to  God's  right  hand ; 
There  we  sit  in  heavenly  places, 

There  with  Thee  in  glory  stand  ; 
Jesus  reigns,  adored  by  angels  ; 

Man  with  God  is  on  the  throne  ; 
Mighty  Lord,  in  Thine  Ascension 

We  by  faith  behold  our  own. 

Lift  us  up  from  earth  to  heaven, 

Give  us  wings  of  faith  and  love, 
Gales  of  holy  aspirations 

Wafting  us  to  realms  above  ; 
That,  with  hearts  and  minds  uplifted. 

We  with  Christ  our  Lord  may  dwell. 
Where  He  sits  enthroned  in  glory 

In  the  heavenly  citadel. 

So  at  last,  when  He  appeareth, 

We  from  out  our  graves  may  spring. 
With  our  youth  renewed  like  eagles'. 

Flocking  round  our  heavenly  King, 
Caught  up  on  the  clouds  of  heaven. 

And  may  meet  Him  in  the  air. 
Rise  to  realms  where  He  is  reigning. 

And  may  reign  for  ever  there. 


D 


336  THE    ASCENSION. 

HE   IS   GONE;    BEYOND   THE   SKIES. 

^;C\vMA.   ^<ijsfjXjU^  S^^O^!!^^::*^ 

A.  P.  Stanley,  D.D.,  Dean  of  Westminster.     Alford  transferred  the  last  three 
stanzas  to  his  Year  of  Praise,  for  Ascension  Day,  Hymn  133. 


T  TE  is  gone  ;  beyond  the  skies, 

-'-  -^    A  cloud  receives  Him  from  our  eyes, 

Gone  beyond  the  highest  height 

Of  mortal  gaze  or  angel's  flight ; 

Through  the  veils  of  time  and  space, 

Passed  into  the  holiest  place  ; 

All  the  toil,  the  sorrow  done, 

All  the  battle  fought  and  won. 

He  is  gone  ;  and  we  return, 
And  our  hearts  within  us  burn  ; 
Olivet  no  more  shall  greet, 
With  welcome  shout,  His  coming  feet ; 
Never  shall  we  thank  Him  more 
On  Gennesareth's  glistening  shore  ; 
Never  in  that  look  or  voice 
Shall  Zion's  walls  again  rejoice. 

He  is  gone  ;  and  we  remain 
In  this  world  of  sin  and  pain. 
In  the  void  which  He  has  left ; 
On  this  earth,  of  Him  bereft. 
We  have  still  His  work  to  do. 
We  can  still  His  path  pursue ; 
Seek  Him  both  in  friend  or  foe. 
In  ourselves  His  image  show. 


tf 


c:: 


SING,    O    HEAVENS  !     O    EARTH,    REJOICE  !       337 

He  is  gone  ;  but  we  once  more 
Shall  behold  Him  as  before. 
In  the  heaven  of  heavens  the  same 
As  on  earth  He  went  and  came ; 
In  the  many  mansions  there, 
Place  for  us  He  will  prepare  ; 
In  that  world,  unseen,  unknown, 
He  and  we  may  yet  be  one. 

He  is  gone,  but  not  in  vain  ; 
Wait  until  He  comes  again ; 
He  is  risen.  He  is  not  here ; 
Far  above  this  earthly  sphere, 
Evermore  in  heart  and  mind. 
There  our  peace  in  Him  we  find ; 
To  our  own  Eternal  Friend 
Thitherward  let  us  ascend. 


SING,  O  HEAVENS !    O  EARTH,  REJOICE 


By  John  S.  B.  Monsell,  LL.D.     From  his  Hymns  of  Love  and  Praise,  1863. 


OING,  O  Heavens  !  O  Earth,  rejoice  ! 
*^    Angel  harp  and  human  voice. 
Round  Him,  as  He  rises,  raise 
Your  ascending  Saviour's  praise : 
Hallelujah ! 


fl 


338  THE    ASCENSION. 

Bruised  is  the  serpent's  head, 
Hell  is  vanquished,  Death  is  dead ; 
And  to  Christ,  gone  up  on  high, 
Captive  is  captivity : 
Hallelujah  I 

All  His  work  and  warfare  done, 
He  into  His  heaven  is  gone. 
And,  beside  His  Father's  throne, 
Now  is  pleading  for  His  own : 
Hallelujah ! 

Asking  gifts  for  sinful  men. 
That  He  may  come  down  again, 
And,  the  fallen  to  restore. 
In  them  dwell  for  evermore  : 
Hallelujah  ! 

Sing,  O  Heavens  !  O  Earth,  rejoice  ! 
Angel  harp  and  human  voice, 
Round  Him,  in  His  glory,  raise 
Your  ascended  Saviour's  praise  : 
Hallelujah  I 


CHRIST   IN   GLORY. 

HIS     INTERCESSION     AND     REIGN. 


"And  [God]  hath  put  all  things  under  His  feet,  and  gave  Him  to  be  the  head  over 
all  things  to  the  church,  which  is  His  body,  the  fulness  of  Him  that  fiUeth  all  in  all." 
—  Eph.  i.  22,  23. 

"Who  is  he  that  condemneth?  It  is  Christ  that  died;  yea,  rather,  that  is  risen 
again,  who  is  even  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  who  also  maketh  intercession  for  us."  — 
Rom.  vlii.  34. 

"  We  have  such  an  High  Priest,  who  is  set  on  the  right  hand  of  the  throne  of  the 
Majesty  in  the  heavens."  —  Heb.  viii.  i. 

'T^HOU  art  the  King  of  glory,  O  Christ! 

Thou  art  the  everlasting  Son  of  the  Father. 
When  Thou  tookest  upon  Thee  to  deliver  man, 
Thou  didst  not  abhor  the  Virgin's  womb. 
When  Thou  hadst  overcome  the  sharpness  of  death, 
Thou  didst  open  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  believers. 
Thou  sittest  at  the  right  hand  of  God, 
In  the  glory  of  the  Father. 

We  believe  that  Thou  shalt  come  to  be  our  Judge. 
We  therefore  pray  Thee,  help  Thy  servants, 
Whom  Thou  hast  redeemed  with  Thy  precious  blood. 
Make  them  to  be  numbered  with  Thy  saints, 
In  glory  everlasting.    Amen. 

From  the  Te  Deum. 


D 


CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 


HIS     INTERCESSION     AND     REIGN. 


CHRIST,  THOU  THE  CHAMPION. 

(^Ckriste,  Du  Beistand  Deiner  Kreuzgemeine^ 


From  the  German  of  Matthaeus  Apklles  von  Lowenstern,  a  statesman, 
b.  1594,  d.  1648.  Author  of  thirty  hymns.  This  hymn  was  written,  1644,  during  the 
Thirty  Years'  War.  "  Be  of  good  cheer :  I  have  overcome  the  world."  —  yohn  xvi.  33. 
Translated  by  C.  Winkworth  {Lyra  Germ.,  I.  105).  It  was  a  favorite;  hymn  of 
Niebuhr  and  Bunsea. 


/^^HRIST,  Thou  the  champion  of  the  band  who 
^^    own 

Thy  cross,  oh,  make  Thy  succor  quickly  known  ! 
The  schemes  of  those  who   long   our   blood   have 
sought 

Bring  Thou  to  nought. 

Do  Thou  Thyself  for  us  Thy  children  fight, 
Withstand  the  devil,  quell  his  rage  and  might, 
Whate'er  assails  Thy  members  left  below. 
Do  Thou  o'erthrow. 


D 
\» 

342  CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 

And  give  us  peace  :  peace  in  the  church  and  school, 
Peace  to  the  powers  who  o'er  our  country  rule, 
Peace  to  the  conscience,  peace  within  the  heart, 
Do  Thou  impart. 

So  shall  Thy  goodness  here  be  still  adored, 
Thou  guardian  of  Thy  little  flock,  dear  Lord ; 
And  heaven  and  earth  through  all  eternity 
Shall  worship  Thee. 


MY  JESUS,   IF  THE  SERAPHIM. 

{Mein  yesti,  dem  die  Sera^phinen.) 


The  eternal  Priesthood  of  Christ.  By  Wolfgang  Christoph  Dessler,  i6g2 
(SCHAFF,  No.  150).  Translated  by  C.  Winkworth,  under  the  title,  "The  Throne 
of  Grace"  {Lyra  Gertn.,  II.  78). 


"IV/rY  Jesus,  if  the  seraphim, 

■^'-*-    The  burning  host  that  near  Thee  stand, 

Before  Thy  Majesty  are  dim, 

And  veil  their  face  at  Thy  command  ; 
How  shall  these  mortal  eyes  of  mine. 

Now  dark  with  evil's  hateful  night, 

Endure  to  gaze  upon  the  light 
That  aye  surrounds  that  throne  of  Thine  ? 

Yet  grant  the  eye  of  faith,  O  Lord  I 
To  pierce  within  the  Holy  Place ; 

For  I  am  saved  and  Thou  adored, 
If  I  am  quickened  by  Thy  grace. 


ff 


D 


MY  JESUS,    IF    THE    SERAPHIM.  343 

Behold,  O  King  !  before  Thy  throne 
My  soul  in  lowly  love  doth  bend, 
O  show  Thyself  her  gracious  Friend  ! 

And  sav,  "I  choose  thee  for  Mine  own." 

Have  mercy,  Lord  of  Love  !  for  long 

My  spirit  for  Thy  mercy  sighs  : 
My  inmost  soul  hath  found  a  tongue, 

"  Be  merciful,  O  God  !  "  she  cries  : 
I  know  Thou  wilt  not  bid  me  go. 

Thou  canst  not  be  ungracious,  Lord, 

To  one  for  whom  Thy  blood  was  poured, 
Whose  guilt  was  cancelled  by  Thy  woe. 

Here  in  Thy  gracious  hands  I  fall. 
To  Thee  I  cling  with  faith's  embrace  : 

O  righteous  Sovereign,  hear  my  call ! 
And  turn,  O  turn,  to  me  in  grace  ! 

For  through  Thy  sorrows  I  am  just. 
And  guilt  no  more  in  me  is  found : 
Thus  reconciled,  my  soul  is  bound 

To  Thee  in  endless  love  and  trust. 

And  let  Thy  wisdom  be  my  guide. 
Nor  take  Thy  light  from  me  away ; 

Thy  grace  be  ever  at  my  side. 

That  from  the  path  I  may  not  stray 

That  Thou  dost  love,  but  evermore 
In  steadfast  faith  my  course  fulfil, 
And  keep  Thy  word,  and  do  Thy  will. 

Thy  love  within,  Thy  heaven  before  ! 


344  CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 

Reach  down,  and  arm  me  with  Thy  hand, 
And  strengthen  me  with  inner  might. 

That  I,  through  faith,  may  strive  and  stand. 
Though  craft  and  force  against  me  fight : 

So  shall  the  kingdom  of  Thy  love 

Be  through  me  and  within  me  spread, 
That  honors  Thee,  our  glorious  Head, 

And  crowneth  us  in  realms  above. 

Yes,  yes,  to  Thee  my  soul  would  cleave : 

O  choose  it.  Saviour,  for  Thy  throne  I 
Couldst  Thou  in  love  to  me  once  leave 

The  glory  that  was  all  Thine  own? 
So  honor  Thou  my  life  and  heart 

That  Thou  mayst  find  a  heaven  in  me ; 

And,  when  this  house  decayed  shall  be. 
Then  grant  the  heaven  where  now  Thou  art. 

To  Thee  I  rise  in  faith  on  high : 

Oh,  bend  Thou  down  in  love  to  me  ! 
Let  nothing  rob  me  of  this  joy. 

That  all  my  soul  is  filled  with  Thee  : 
As  long  as  I  have  life  and  breath. 

Thee  will  I  honor,  fear,  and  love ; 

And  when  this  heart  hath  ceased  to  move, 
Yet  Love  shall  live  and  conquer  death. 


JESUS    SHALL    REIGN.  345 


JESUS  SHALL  REIGN. 


Isaac  Watts,  D.D.,  1719.    Ps.  IxxiL 


TESUS  shall  reign  where'er  the  sun 
^     Does  his  successive  journeys  run  ; 
His  kingdom  stretch  from  shore  to  shore, 
Till  moons  shall  wax  and  wane  no  more. 

Behold  the  islands  with  their  kings, 
And  Europe  her  best  tribute  brings  ; 
From  north  to  south  the  princes  meet 
To  pay  their  homage  at  His  feet. 

There  Persia,  glorious  to  behold, 
There  India  shines  in  eastern  gold  : 
And  barb'rous  nations,  at  His  word, 
Submit  and  bow,  and  own  their  Lord. 

For  Him  shall  endless  prayer  be  made, 
And  praises  throng  to  crown  His  head  : 
His  name,  like  sweet  perfume,  shall  rise 
With  every  morning  sacrifice. 

People  and  realms  of  every  tongue 
Dwell  on  His  love  with  sweetest  song ; 
And  infant  voices  shall  proclaim 
Their  early  blessings  on  His  name. 


346  CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 

Blessings  abound  where'er  He  reigns ; 
The  prisoner  leaps  to  lose  his  chains ; 
The  weary  find  eternal  rest, 
And  all  the  sons  of  want  are  blest. 

Where  He  displays  His  healing  power, 
Death  and  the  curse  are  known  no  more ; 
In  Him  the  tribes  of  Adam  boast 
More  blessings  than  their  father  lost. 

Let  every  creature  rise,  and  bring 
Peculiar  honors  to  our  King  ; 
Angels  descend  with  songs  again, 
And  earth  repeat  the  long  Amen  ! 


BEHOLD  THE  GLORIES  OF  THE  LAMB! 


Isaac  Watts,  D.D.,  1674-1748.     "A  new  song  to  the  Lamb  that  was  slain."  — 
Rev.  V.  6,  S-12. 


TI)  EHOLD  the  glories  of  the  Lamb 
-'-^    Amidst  His  Father's  throne  ! 
Prepare  new  honors  for  His  name, 
And  songs  before  unknown. 

Let  elders  worship  at  His  feet, 
The  Church  adore  around, 

With  vials  full  of  odors  sweet, 
And  harps  of  sweeter  sound. 


BEHOLD  THE  GLORIES  OF  THE  LAMB  !    347 

Those  are  the  prayers  of  the  saints, 

And  these  the  hymns  they  raise ; 
Jesus  is  kind  to  our  complaints, 

He  loves  to  hear  our  praise. 

Eternal  Father,  who  shall  look 

Into  Thy  secret  will  ? 
Who  but  the  Son  should  take  that  book, 

And  open  every  seal? 

He  shall  fulfil  Thy  great  decrees  : 

The  Son  deserves  it  well ; 
Lo,  in  His  hand  the  sov'reign  keys 

Of  heaven  and  death  and  hell ! 

Now  to  the  Lamb,  that  once  was  slain. 

Be  endless  blessings  paid  ; 
Salvation,  glory,  joy,  remain 

For  ever  on  Thy  head. 

Thou  hast  redeemed  our  souls  with  blood. 

Hast  set  the  prisoners  free, 
Hast  made  us  kings  and  priests  to  God, 

And  we  shall  reign  with  Thee. 

The  worlds  of  nature  and  of  grace 

Are  put  beneath  Thy  power ; 
Then  shorten  these  delaying  days. 

And  bring  the  promised  hour. 


348  CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 


REJOICE!  THE  LORD   IS   KING. 


Rev.  Charles  Wesley,  1745. 


"D  EJOICE  !  the  Lord  is  King  : 
^   Your  Lord  and  King  adore  ; 
Mortals,  give  thanks  and  sing, 
And  triumph  evermore : 
Lift  up  your  heart,  lift  up  your  voice , 
Rejoice,  again  I  say,  rejoice. 

Jesus  the  Saviour  reigns. 

The  God  of  truth  and  love  ; 
When  He  had  purged  our  stains, 
He  took  His  seat  above : 
Lift  up  your  heart,  lift  up  your  voice  ; 
Rejoice,  again  I  say,  rejoice. 

His  kingdom  cannot  fail ; 

He  rules  o'er  earth  and  heaven  ; 
The  keys  of  death  and  hell 
Are  to  our  Jesus  given  : 
Lift  up  your  heart,  lift  up  your  voice  ; 
Rejoice,  again  I  say,  rejoice. 


NOW  LET  OUR  CHEERFUL,  EYES  SURVEY.   349 

He  sits  at  God's  right  hand, 

Till  all  His  foes  submit, 
And  bow  to  His  command. 
And  fall  beneath  His  feet : 
Lift  up  your  heart,  lift  up  your  voice ; 
Rejoice,  again  I  say,  rejoice. 

He  all  His  foes  shall  quell. 

Shall  all  our  sins  destroy, 
And  every  bosom  swell 
"With  pure  seraphic  joy  : 
Lift  up  your  heart,  lift  up  your  voice  ; 
Rejoice,  again  I  say,  rejoice. 

Rejoice  in  glorious  hope  ; 

Jesus  the  Judge  shall  come. 
And  take  His  servants  up 
To  their  eternal  home  : 
We  soon  shall  hear  the  archangel's  voice ; 
The  trump  of  God  shall  sound,  Rejoice  ! 


NOW  LET  OUR  CHEERFUL  EYES  SURVEY. 


Philip  Doddridge,  D.D.  ;  bom  in  London,  1702;  died  at  Lisbon,  1751. 


"IVrOW  let  our  cheerful  eyes  survey 
^    Our  great  High  Priest  above, 

And  celebrate  His  constant  care. 
His  sympathy  and  love. 


350  CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 

Though  raised  to  a  superior  throne. 
Where  angels  bow  around, 

And  high  o'er  all  the  heavenly  host, 
With  matchless  honor  crowned,  — 

The  names  of  all  His  saints  He  bears, 
Deep  graven  on  His  heart ; 

Nor  shall  the  meanest  Christian  say, 
That  he  hath  lost  his  part. 

Those  characters  shall  fair  abide 

Our  everlasting  trust, 
When  gems  and  monuments  and  crowns 

Are  mouldered  down  to  dust. 

So,  gracious  Saviour,  on  my  breast 
May  Thy  dear  name  be  worn, 

A  sacred  ornament  and  guard. 
To  endless  ages  borne. 


WHERE  HIGH  THE  HEAVENLY  TEMPLE. 


Michael  Bruce,  1746-1767. 


TT  THERE  high  the  heavenly  temple  stands, 
'  '     The  house  of  God  not  made  with  hands, 
A  great  High  Priest  our  nature  wears, 
The  Patron  of  mankind  appears. 


WHERE  HIGH  THE  HEAVENLY  TEMPLE  STANDS.    35 1 

He  who  for  men  in  mercy  stood, 
And  poured  on  earth  His  precious  blood, 
Pursues  in  heaven  His  plan  of  grace. 
The  Guardian  God  of  human  race. 

Though  now  ascended  up  on  high. 
He  bends  on  earth  a  brother's  eye ; 
Partaker  of  the  human  name, 
He  knows  the  frailty  of  our  frame. 

Our  Fellow-sufferer  yet  retains 
A  fellow-feeling  of  our  pains  ; 
And  still  remembers  in  the  skies 
His  tears  and  agonies  and  cries. 

In  every  pang  that  rends  the  heart, 
The  Man  of  sorrows  had  a  part ; 
He  sympathizes  with  our  grief, 
And  to  the  sufferer  sends  relief. 

With  boldness,  therefore,  at  the  throne 
Let  us  make  all  our  sorrows  known  ; 
And  ask  the  aids  of  heavenly  power 
To  help  us  in  the  evil  hour. 


352  CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 


HE  WHO   ON  EARTH   AS   MAN  WAS 
KNOWN. 


John  Newton,  1779.     From  the  Obuy  Hymns,  No.  59.     On  Isa.  xxxii.  2. 


T  TE  who  on  earth  as  man  was  known, 

And  bore  our  sins  and  pains, 
Now,  seated  on  th'  eternal  throne, 
The  God  of  glory  reigns. 

His  hands  the  wheels  of  nature  guide 

With  an  unerring  skill ; 
And  countless  worlds,  extended  wide, 

Obey  His  sovereign  will. 

While  harps  unnumbered  sound  His  praise 

In  yonder  world  above. 
His  saints  on  earth  admire  His  ways. 

And  glory  in  His  love. 

His  righteousness,  to  faith  revealed, 
Wrought  out  for  guilty  worms, 

Affords  a  hiding-place  and  shield 
From  enemies  and  storms. 


D 


u 


THE    HEAD    THAT    ONCE    WAS    CROWNED.       353 

This  land,  through  which  His  pilgrims  go, 

Is  desolate  and  dry  ; 
But  streams  of  grace  from  Him  o'erflow. 

Their  thirst  to  satisfy. 

When  troubles,  like  a  burning  sun, 

Beat  heavy  on  their  head, 
To  this  Almighty  Rock  they  run. 

And  find  a  pleasing  shade. 

How  glorious  He  I  how  happy  they 

In  such  a  glorious  Friend  ! 
Whose  love  secures  them  all  the  way, 

And  crowns  them  at  the  end. 


THE  HEAD  THAT  ONCE  WAS  CROWNED. 


Rev.  Thomas  Kelly,  1769-1835. 


nr^HE  Head  that  once  was  crowned  with  thorns 

Is  crowned  with  glory  now ; 
A  royal  diadem  adorns 
The  mighty  Victor's  brow. 

The  highest  place  that  heaven  affords 

Is  His,  is  His  by  right,  — 
*'The  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords," 

And  heaven's  eternal  Light ! 
23 


5                                                                                                                                C 

■^ 

c 

> 

c 

354                                 CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 

The  joy  of  all  who  dwell  above, 

The  joy  of  all  below, 
To  whom  He  manifests  His  love. 

And  grants  His  name  to  know. 

To  them,  the  cross,  with  all  its  shame, 
With  all  its  grace,  is  given  ; 

Their  name  an  everlasting  name, 
Their  joy  the  joy  of  heaven. 

They  suffer  with  their  Lord  below, 
They  reign  with  Him  above ; 

Their  profit  and  their  joy  to  know 
The  mystery  of  His  love. 

The  cross  He  bore  is  life  and  health, 
Though  shame  and  death  to  Him  ; 

His  people's  hope,  His  people's  health, 
Their  everlasting  theme. 

9 

THE  ATONING  WORK  IS   DONE. 

Rev.  Thomas  Kelly  ;  died,  at  Dublin,  1855. 

c 

'  1  ^HE  atoning  work  is  done, 

-*-    The  Victim's  blood  is  shed  ; 
And  Jesus  now  is  gone 

His  people's  cause  to  plead  ; 

» 

r 

"j 

^ 

THE   ATONING  WORK   IS   DONE.  355 

He  Stands  in  heaven  their  great  High  Priest, 
And  bears  their  names  upon  His  breast. 

He  sprinkles  with  His  blood 

The  mercy-seat  above ; 
For  justice  hath  withstood 
The  purposes  of  love  ; 
But  justice  now  objects  no  more, 
And  mercy  yields  her  boundless  store. 

No  temple  made  with  hands 

His  place  of  service  is ; 
In  heaven  itself  He  stands, 
An  heavenly  priesthood  His  ; 
In  Him  the  shadows  of  the  law 
Are  all  fulfilled,  and  now  withdraw. 

And  though  awhile  He  be 

Hid  from  the  eyes  of  men, 
His  people  look  to  see 

Their  great  High  Priest  again ; 
In  brightest  glory  He  will  come, 
And  take  His  waiting  people  home. 


35^  CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 


HOSANNA !  RAISE  THE  PEALING   HYMN. 


Anonymous  [1842].     From  R.  Palmer's  Book  of  Praise,  No.  LXXIX. 


T  TOSANNA  !  raise  the  pealing  hymn 
-^  -^   To  David's  Son  and  Lord ; 
With  Cherubim  and  Seraphim 
Exalt  the  Incarnate  Word. 

Hosanna  !  Lord,  our  feeble  tongue 

No  lofty  strains  can  raise ; 
But  Thou  wilt  not  despise  the  young, 

Who  meekly  chant  Thy  praise. 

Hosanna  !  Sovereign,  Prophet,  Priest, 
How  vast  Thy  gifts,  how  free  ! 

Thy  Blood,  our  life  ;  Thy  Word,  our  feast ; 
Thy  Name,  our  only  plea. 

Hosanna  !  Master,  lo,  we  bring 

Our  offerings  to  Thy  throne  ; 
Not  gold,  nor  myrrh,  nor  mortal  thing. 

But  hearts  to  be  Thine  own. 

Hosanna  !  once  Thy  gracious  ear 

Approved  a  lisping  throng  ; 
Be  gracious  still,  and  deign  to  hear 

Our  poor  but  grateful  song. 


cfl 


SEE,    THE    RANSOMED    MILLIONS    STAND  !       357 

O  Saviour !  if,  redeemed  by  Thee, 

Tliy  temple  we  behold, 
Hosannas  through  eternity 

We'll  sing  to  harps  of  gold. 


SEE,  THE  RANSOMED  MILLIONS  STAND ! 


JosiAH  CoNDER,  a  publisher  and  editor;  b.  in  London,  1789 ;  d.  1853. 


OEE,  the  ransomed  millions  stand, 
*^    Palms  of  conquest  in  their  hand  ! 
This  before  the  throne  their  strain : 
"  Hell  is  vanquished  ;  death  is  slain  ; 
Blessing,  honor,  glory,  might. 
Are  the  Conqueror's  native  right ; 
Thrones  and  powers  before  Him  fall ; 
Lamb  of  God,  and  Lord  of  all ! " 

Hasten,  Lord  !  the  promised  hour  ; 
Come  in  glory  and  in  power ; 
Still  Thy  foes  are  unsubdued  ; 
Nature  sighs  to  be  renewed  : 
Time  has  nearly  reached  its  sum. 
All  things  with  Thy  Bride  say.  Come ; 
Jesus  whom  all  worlds  adore. 
Come  and  reign  for  evermore  ! 


358  CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 

JESUS   IS   GOD!    THE  SOLID  EARTH. 


"Jesus  is  God."  By  Frederick  William  Faber,  D.D.  Born  1815  ;  graduated 
in  Oxford,  1836 ;  rector  of  Elton  in  Northamptonshire ;  entered  the  Roman-Catholic 
Church,  1845 ;  priest  of  the  Oratory  of  St.  Philip  Neri ;  died  1863.  One  of  the  most 
fervent  devotional  writers  of  the  Roman-Catholic  Church.  One  (polemical)  stanza  is 
omitted.     From  the  last  edition  of  Faber's  Hymns,  Lond.  1862,  p.  33. 


TESUS  is  God !  the  solid  earth, 
*^    The  ocean  broad  and  bright, 
The  countless  stars,  like  golden  dust, 

That  strew  the  skies  at  night. 
The  wheeling  storm,  the  dreadful  fire. 

The  pleasant,  wholesome  air, 
The  summer's  sun,  the  winter's  frost, 

His  own  creations  were. 

Jesus  is  God  !  the  glorious  bands 

Of  golden  angels  sing 
Songs  of  adoring  praise  to  Him, 

Their  Maker  and  their  King. 
He  was  true  God  in  Bethlehem's  crib  ; 

On  Calvary's  cross,  true  God  : 
He  who  in  heaven  eternal  reigned. 

In  time  on  earth  abode. 

Jesus  is  God  !  there  never  was 

A  time  when  He  was  not ; 
Boundless,  eternal,  merciful, 

The  Word  the  Sire  begot. 


& 


JESUS    IS    GOD  !    THE    SOLID    EARTH.  359 

Backward  our  thoughts  through  ages  stretch, 

Onward  through  endless  bliss  ; 
For  there  are  two  eternities, 

And  both  alike  are  His  ! 

Jesus  is  God  !  let  sorrow  come. 

And  pain  and  every  ill ; 
All  are  worth  while,  for  all  are  means 

His  glory  to  fulfil ; 
Worth  while  a  thousand  years  of  life 

To  speak  one  little  word. 
If  by  our  Credo  we  might  own 

The  Godhead  of  our  Lord. 

Jesus  is  God !  oh,  could  I  now 

But  compass  land  and  sea. 
To  teach  and  tell  this  single  truth, 

How  happy  should  I  be  ! 
Oh,  had  I  but  an  angel's  voice, 

I  would  proclaim  so  loud,  — 
Jesus,  the  good,  the  beautiful. 

Is  everlasting  God ! 

Jesus  is  God  !  if  on  the  earth 

This  blessed  faith  decays. 
More  tender  must  our  love  become, 

More  plentiful  our  praise. 


360  CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 

We  are  not  angels,  but  we  may 
Down  in  earth's  corners  kneel, 

And  multiply  sweet  acts  of  love, 
And  murmur  what  we  feel. 


KING  OF  KINGS,  AND  WILT  THOU  DEIGN? 


W.  A.  Muhlenberg,  D.D.,  author  of  "  I  would  not  live  alway."    1859. 


T^ING  of  kings,  and  wilt  Thou  deign 
O'er  this  wayward  heart  to  reign? 
Henceforth  take  it  for  Thy  throne,^ 
Rule  here,  Lord,  and  rule  alone. 

Then,  like  heaven's  angelic  bands, 
Waiting  for  Thine  high  commands, 
All  my  powers  shall  wait  on  Thee, 
Captive,  yet  divinely  free. 

At  Thy  Word  my  will  shall  bow. 
Judgment,  reason,  bending  low; 
Hope,  desire,  and  every  thought, 
Into  glad  obedience  brought. 


1  So  reads  the  written  copy,  kindly  furnished  me  by  the 
author.  In  the  printed  volume  of  his  poems,  this  line  is  changed 
thus : — 

"  Other  Sovereign,  none  I'll  own." 


O  CHRIST,  THE  LORD  OF  HEAVEN  !     361 

Zeal  shall  haste  on  eager  wing, 
Hourly  some  new  gift  to  bring ; 
Wisdom,  humbly  casting  down 
At  Thy  feet  her  golden  crown. 

Tuned  by  Thee  in  sweet  accord. 
All  shall  sing  their  gracious  Lord  ; 
Love,  the  leader  of  the  choir. 
Breathing  round  her  seraph  fire. 

Be  it  so  :  my  heart's  Thy  throne. 
All  my  powers  Thy  sceptre  own, 
And,  with  them  on  Thine  own  hill, 
Live  rejoicing  in  Thy  will. 


O  CHRIST,   THE  LORD   OF   HEAVEN! 


Ray  Palmer,  D.D.,  May  9,  1867.    Praise  to  Christ    Rev.  xix.  16. 


r\  CHRIST,  the  Lord  of  heaven,  to  Thee, 

Clothed  with  all  majesty  divine, 
Eternal  power  and  glory  be. 

Eternal  praise  of  right  is  Thine  ! 

Reign,  Prince  of  Life  !  that  once  Thy  brow 
Didst  yield  to  wear  the  wounding  thorn ; 

Reign  throned  beside  the  Father  now, 
Adored  the  Son  of  God  first-born  1 


362  CHRIST    IN    GLORY. 

From  angel  hosts  that  round  Thee  stand, 

With  forms  more  pure  than  spotless  snow, 
From  the  bright,  burning  seraph  band, 
Let  praise  in  loftiest  numbers  flow ! 

To  Thee,  the  Lamb,  our  mortal  songs. 
Born  of  deep,  fervent  love  shall  rise ; 

All  honor  to  Thy  name  belongs, 
Our  lips  would  sound  it  to  the  skies. 

Jesus !  all  earth  shall  speak  the  word ; 

Jesus  !  all  heaven  resound  it  still ; 
Immanuel,  Saviour,  Conqueror,  Lord, 

Thy  praise  the  universe  shall  fill  I 


fl=> 


CHRIST  JUDGING   THE  WORLD. 


"  When  the  Son  of  Man  shall  come  in  His  glory,  and  all  the  holy  angels  with 
Him,  then  shall  He  sit  upon  the  throne  of  His  glory.  And  before  Him  shall  be 
gathered  all  nations:  and  He  shall  separate  them  one  from  another,  as  a  shepherd 
divideth  his  sheep  from  the  goats."  —  Matt.  xxv.  31,  32. 

"We  must  all  appear  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ;  that  every  one  may 
receive  the  things  done  in  his  body."  —  2  Cor.  v.  10. 


JUDEX  mundi  quum  sedebit, 
Quidquid  latet  apparebit, 
Nil  inultum  remanebit. 

Quid  sum,  miser,  tunc  diciurus. 
Quern  patrvnum  rogaturus, 
Quum  vix  Justus  sit  securus  ? 

Rex  tremendce  majestaiis. 
Qui  salvandos  salvos  gratis, 
Salva  me.  Fans  pietatis  t 

Recordare,  Jesu  pie, 
Quod  sum  causa  tuse  viae ; 
Ne  me  perdas  ilia  die  1 

Quarens  me  sedisti  lassus, 
Redemisti  crucem  passus ; 
Tantus  labor  non  sit  cassus  I 

Justae  Judex  ultionis, 
Donum  fac  remissionis 
Ante  diem  rationis  1 

Oro  supplex  et  acclinis, 
Cor  contritum,  quasi  cinis ; 
Gere  curam  mei  finis.     Amen. 

jfrom  the  Dies  Ir-«. 


D 


CHRIST  JUDGING  THE  WORLD. 


GOD  COMES  ;— AND  WHO  SHALL  STAND? 

('  0  Kvpiog  tpxerai.') 


Ode  of  St.  Theodore  of  the  Studium  (an  abbey  at  Constantinople),  distin- 
guished for  his  sufferings  and  influence  in  the  Iconoclastic  controversy;  d.  in  exile, 
826.    Translated  from  the  Greek,  by  Dr.  J.  M.  Neale,  1862. 


GOD  comes ;  —  and  who  shall  stand  before  His 
fear? 
Who  bide  His  Presence,  when  He  draweth  near? 
My  soul,  my  soul,  prepare 
To  kneel  before  Him  there  ! 

Haste,  —  weep, — be  reconciled  to  Him  before 
The  fearful  judgment  knocketh  at  the  door  : 

Where,  in  the  Judge's  eyes, 

All  bare  and  naked  lies. 

Have  mercy,  Lord  !  have  mercy.  Lord  !  I  cry, 
When  with  Thine  angels  Thou  appear'st  on  high  : 

And  man  a  doom  inherits, 

According  to  his  merits. 


366  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

How  can  I  bear  Thy  fearful  anger,  Lord? 
I,  that  so  often  have  transgressed  Thy  word? 

But  put  my  sins  away, 

And  spare  me  in  that  day  I 

O  miserable  soul !  return,  lament. 
Ere  earthly  converse  end,  and  life  be  spent : 
Ere,  time  for  sorrow  o'er. 
The  Bridegroom  close  the  door  ! 

Yea,  I  have  sinned,  as  no  man  sinned  beside  : 
With  more  than  human  guilt  my  soul  is  dyed ; 

But  spare,  and  save  me  here, 

Before  that  Day  appear  ! 

Three  Persons  in  One  Essence  uncreate, 
On  Whom,  both  Three  and  One,  our  praises  wait, 
Give  everlasting  light 
To  them  that  sing  Thy  might ! 


THE   DAY  IS   NEAR. 


From  the  Greek  of  St.  Theodore  of  the  Studium,  826.    Translated  by  Dr.  J. 
M.  Neale,  1862. 


THE  Day  is  near,  the  judgment  is  at  hand : 
Awake,  my  soul !  awake,  and  ready  stand  ! 
Where  chiefs  shall  go  with   them   that   filled    the 
throne. 


THE    DAY    IS    NEAR.  367 

Where  rich  and  poor  the  same  tribunal  own ; 
And  every  thought  and  deed 
Shall  find  its  righteous  meed. 

There  with  the  sheep  the  Shepherd  of  the  fold 
Shall  stand  together ;  there  the  young  and  old, 
Master  and  slave,  one  doom  shall  undergo ; 
Widow  and  maiden  one  tribunal  know  : 

Oh,  woe,  oh,  woe,  to  them 

Whom  lawless  lives  condemn  ! 

That  Judgment-seat,  impartial  in  decree, 

Accepts  no  bribe,  admits  no  subtilty  : 

No  orator  persuasion  may  exert, 

No  perjured  witness  wrong  to  right  convert ; 

But  all  things,  hid  in  night. 

Shall  then  be  dragged  to  light. 

Let  me  not  enter  in  the  land  of  woe  ; 
Let  me  not  realms  of  outer  darkness  know  ! 
Nor  from  the  wedding-feast  reject  Thou  me. 
For  my  soiled  vest  of  immortality ; 

Bound  hand  and  foot,  and  cast 

In  anguish  that  shall  last ! 

When  Thou,  the  nations  ranged  on  either  side, 
The  righteous  from  the  sinners  shalt  divide, 
Then  give  me  to  be  found  amongst  Thy  sheep. 
Then  from  the  goats  Thy  trembling  servant  keep, 

That  I  may  hear  the  voice 

That  bids  Thy  saints  rejoice  ! 


^68  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

When  righteous  inquisition  shall  be  made, 
And  the  books  opened,  and  the  thrones  arrayed, 
My  soul,  what  plea  to  shield  thee  canst  thou  know, 
Who  hast  no  fruit  of  righteousness  to  show, 

No  holy  deeds  to  bring 

To  Christ  the  Lord  and  King? 

I  hear  the  rich  man's  wail  and  bitter  cry, 
Out  of  the  torments  of  eternity : 
I  know,  beholding  that  devouring  flame, 
My  guilt  and  condemnation  are  the  same  ; 

And  spare  me.  Lord,  I  say, 

In  the  great  Judgment-Day  ! 

The  Word  and  Spirit,  with  the  Father  One, 
One  Light  and  emanation  of  One  Sun, 
The  Word  by  generation,  we  adore, 
The  Spirit  by  procession,  evermore ; 

And  with  creation  raise 

The  thankful  hymn  of  praise. 


THAT   GREAT   DAY  OF  WRATH. 

{Apparebit  refentina  magna  Dies  Domini.) 


An  anonymous  Latin  poem,  based  on  Matt.  xxv.  31-46,  first  quoted  by  the  Vener- 
able Bede  (d.  735),  in  his  work  De  Metris,  and  then  lost  sight  of  till  Cassander  pub- 
lished it  in  \i\%  HyTnni  Ecclesiastici.  See  Daniel,  I.  p.  194  seq.  ;  Trench,  pp.  290- 
292.  Translated  by  Dr.  John  M.  Neale.  who  introduces  it  with  the  remark,  "This 
rugged  but  grand  judgment-hymn  is  at  least  as  early  as  the  7th  century,  because  quoted 
by  the  Venerable  Bede.     It  manifestly  contains  the  germ  of  the  Dies  Ira,  to  which 


:"D 


THAT    GREAT    DAY    OF    WRATH.  369 

however  inferior  in  lyric  fervor  and  effect,  it  scarcely  yields  in  devotion  and  simple  real- 
ization of  its  subject."  Daniel  and  Trench  likewise  put  it  on  a  par  with  the  Dies  Ira 
as  to  simplicity  and  faith,  but  below  it  in  majesty  and  terror.  Both  breathe  the  medi- 
seval  spirit  of  legalistic,  rather  than  of  joyous  evangelic,  piety.  This  poem  is  more 
narrative  than  lyrical.  The  Latin  is  alphabetic  and  acrostical,  every  other  line  follow- 
ing the  alphabet  in  the  first  letter,  —  an  artificial  arrangement  for  the  eye  rather  than 
the  ear,  borrowed  fi-om  Ps.  cxix.  and  the  Lamentations  of  Jeremiah.  Other  versions 
by  Mrs.  Charles,  and  E.  C.  Benedict. 


'T^HAT  great  Day  of  wrath  and  terror, 

-^    That  last  Day  of  woe  and  doom, 
Like  a  thief  at  darkest  midnight, 
On  the  sons  of  men  shall  come ; 
When  the  pride  and  pomp  of  ages 
All  shall  utterly  have  passed, 
And  they  stand  in  anguish,  owning 
That  the  end  is  here  at"  last. 
Then  the  trumpet's  pealing  clangor. 
Through  the  earth's  four  quarters  spread, 
Waxing  loud  and  ever  louder. 
Shall  convoke  the  quick  and  dead ; 
And  the  King  of  heavenly  glory 
Shall  assume  His  throne  on  high. 
And  the  cohorts  of  His  angels 
Shall  be  near  Him  in  the  sky. 
Then  the  sun  shall  turn  to  darkness,^ 
And  the  moon  be  red  as  blood ; 
And  the  stars  shall  fall  from  heaven, 

1  Neale  translates  "  shall  turn  to  sackcloth"  which  is  an  im- 
proper figure,  and  not  implied  in  the  original :  — 

"  Erubescit  orbis  lunae,  sol  vel  obscurabiiur." 
24 


W^  ^ 


370  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

Whelmed  beneath  destruction's  flood. 
Flame  and  fire  and  desolation 
At  the  Judge's  feet  shall  go  : 
Earth  and  sea  and  all  abysses 
Shall  His  mighty  sentence  know. 

Then  th'  elect  upon  the  right  hand 
Of  the  Lord  shall  stand  around ; 
But,  like  goats,  the  evil-doers 
Shall  upon  the  left  be  found. 
"Come,  ye  Blessed,  take  the  kingdom," 
Shall  be  there  the  King's  award, 
"Which  for  you,  before  the  world  was, 
Of  My  Father  was  prepared  : 
I  was  naked,  and  ye  clothed  Me, 
Poor,  and  ye  relieved  Me ;  hence, 
Take  the  riches  of  My  glory 
For  your  endless  recompense." 
Then  the  righteous  shall  make  question  : 
"When  have  we  beheld  Thee  poor. 
Lord  of  glory  ?     When  relieved  Thee 
Lying  needy  at  our  door?" 
Whom  the  Blessed  King  shall  answer  : 
"When  ye  showed  your  charity. 
Giving  bread  and  home  and  raiment, 
What  ye  did  was  done  to  Me." 
In  like  manner,  to  the  left  hand 
That  most  righteous  Judge  shall  say, 
"Go,  ye  cursed,  to  Gehenna, 


THAT    GREAT    DAY    OF   WRATH.  37 1 

And  the  fire  that  is  for  aye  : 

For  in  prison  ye  came  not  nigh  Me ; 

Poor,  ye  pitied  not  My  lot ; 

Naked,  ye  have  never  clothed  Me ; 

Sick,  ye  .visited  Me  not." 

They  shall  say  :  "  O  Christ !  when  saw  we 

That  Thou  calledst  for  our  aid, 

And  in  prison,  or  sick  or  hungry, 

To  relieve  have  we  delayed  ?  " 

Whom  again  the  Judge  shall  answer  : 

"  Since  ye  never  cast  your  eyes 

On  the  sick  and  poor  and  needy, 

It  was  Me  ye  did  despise." 

Backward,  backward,  at  the  sentence, 
To  Gehenna  they  shall  fly. 
Where  the  flame  is  never-ending. 
Where  the  worm  can  never  die ; 
Where  are  Satan  and  his  angels 
In  profoundest  dungeon  bound  ; 
Where  are  chains  and  lamentation, 
Where  are  quenchless  flames  around. 

But  the  righteous,  upward  soaring, 
To  the  heavenly  land  shall  go, 
Midst  the  cohorts  of  the  angels, 
Where  is  joy  for  evermo  : 
To  Jerusalem,  exulting. 
They  with  shouts  shall  enter  in ; 


13 


& 


372  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

That  true  "  sight  of  peace  "  and  glory- 
That  sets  free  from  grief  and  sin. 
Christ  shall  they  behold  for  ever, 
Seated  at  the  Father's  hand, 
As  in  Beatific  Vision 
His  elect  before  Him  stand. 

Wherefore  man,  while  yet  thou  mayest, 
From  the  dragon's  malice  fly  :  ^ 
Give  thy  bread  to  feed  the  hungry, 
If  thou  seek'st  to  win  the  sky  ; 
Let  Thy  loins  be  straitly  girded, 
Life  be  pure,  and  heart  be  right; 
At  the  coming  of  the  Bridegroom, 
That  thy  lamp  may  glitter  bright. 


DAY  OF  WRATH !  THAT  DAY  FORETOLD. 

(^Dies  ircB,  dies  ilia.) 


The  Dies  Ikm  (Daniel,  II.  p.  103;  Trench,  p.  293,  &c.).  An  act  of  humilia- 
tion, and  prayer  for  mercy,  in  view  of  the  impending  Day  of  judgment,  based  upon 
Zeph.  i.  15,  16;  Matt.  xxv. ;  2  Pet.  iii.  10-12,  &c.  Written,  in  a  lonely  monastic  cell, 
about  1250,  by  Thomas  of  Celano,  the  friend  and  biographer  of  St.  Francis  of 
Assisi.  This  marvellous  hymn  is  the  acknowledged  masterpiece  of  Latin  poetry,  and 
the  most  sublime  of  all  uninspired  hymns,  often  translated,  reproduced,  and  imitated, 
but  never  equalled.    It  is  one  of  those  rare  productions  which  can  never  die,  but  increase 


1  "Ydri  [=  Hydri,  from  vSpog']  fraudes  ergo  cave,"  refers  to 
"the  old  serpent"  (^6  6<l>ig  6  hpxuiog),  as  Satan  is  called,  Rev.  xii. 
9,  14;  XX.  2,  with  reference  to  the  history  of  temptation,  Gen.  iii. 
I,  4. 


U 


DAY    OF   WRATH  !    THAT    DAY    FORETOLD.      373 

in  value  as  the  ages  advance.  It  has  commanded  the  admiration  of  secular  poets,  and 
men  of  letters,  like  Goethe,  Walter  Scott,  and  Macaulay,  and  has  inspired  some  of  the 
greatest  musicians,  from  Palestrina  down  to  Mozart.  The  secret  of  the  irresistible 
power  of  the  Dies  Irce  lies  in  the  awful  grandeur  of  the  theme,  the  intense  earnestness 
and  pathos  of  the  poet,  the  simple  majesty  and  solemn  music  of  its  language,  the 
stately  metre,  the  triple  rhyme,  and  the  vowel  assonances  chosen  in  striking  adaptation 
to  the  sense,  —  all  combining  to  produce  an  overwhelming  effect,  as  if  we  heard  the  final 
crash  of  the  universe,  the  commotion  of  the  opening  graves,  the  trumpet  of  the  arch- 
angel summoning  the  quick  and  the  dead,  and  saw  the  "  King  of  tremendous  majesty  " 
seated  on  the  throne  of  justice  and  mercy,  and  ready  to  dispense  everlasting  life  or 
everlasting  woe.  Goethe  describes  its  effect  upon  the  guilty  conscience,  in  the  cathe- 
dral-scene of  Faust :  — 

"  Horror  seizes  thee  I 

The  trump  sounds ! 

The  grave  trembles  1 

And  thy  heart 

From  the  repose  of  its  ashes, 

For  fiery  torment 

Brought  to  life  again, 

Trembles  up  1 " 

The  opening  line,  which  is  literally  borrowed  from  the  Vulgate  version  of  Zeph.  i.  15 
(as  the  Stabai  Mater  likewise  opens  with  a  Scripture  sentence,  —  John  xix.  25)  strikes 
the  key-note  to  the  whole  vdth  a  startling  sound,  and  brings  up  at  once  the  judgment- 
scene  as  an  awful,  impending  reality.  The  "feeling  of  terror  occasioned  by  the  contem- 
plation of  that  event  culminates  in  the  cry  of  repentance,  ver.  7 :  "  Quid  sum,  miser,  tunc 
dicturus,"  &c. ;  but  from  this  the  poet  rises  at  once  to  the  prayer  of  faith,  and  takes 
refuge  from  the  wrath  to  come  in  the  infinite  mercy  of  Him  who  suffered  nameless 
pain  for  a  guilty  world,  who  pardoned  the  sinful  Magdalene,  and  saved  the  dying  robber. 
—  For  further  information,  see  Iaszq'' ?>  Dies  Irce,  Berlin,  1S40;  and  my  articles  in  the 
Hours  at  Home,  New  York,  May  and  July,  1868,  with  specimens  of  about  a  hundred 
translations.  This  new  version,  although  quite  faithful,  is  offered  with  a  lively  sense  of 
the  untranslatableness  of  the  Dies  Ir^e. 


T^AY  of  wrath  !  that  Day  foretold, 
^^^  By  the  saints  and  seers  of  old, 
Shall  the  world  in  flames  infold.^ 


1  A  more  literal  version  :  — 

"  Day  of  wrath,  that  woful  Day, 
Shall  the  world  in  ashes  lay : 
David  and  the  Sibyl  say." 

But  the  mythical  Sibyl,  which,  as  the  representative  of  the  un- 
conscious prophecies   of  heathendom,  is  here  placed  alongside 


374  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

What  a  trembling,  what  a  fear, 
When  the  dread  Judge  shall  appear, 
Strictly  searching  far  and  near  ! 

Hark  !  the  trumpet's  wondrous  tone, 
Through  the  tombs  of  every  zone. 
Summons  all  before  the  throne. 

Death  shall  shiver,  nature  quake. 
When  the  creatures  shall  awake. 
Answer  to  their  Judge  to  make. 

Lo,  the  book  of  ages  spread,^ 
From  which  all  the  deeds  are  read 
Of  the  living  and  the  dead. 

Now,  before  the  Judge  severe. 
Hidden  things  must  all  appear : 
Nought  shall  pass  unpunished  here. 

Wretched  man,  what  shall  I  plead, 
Who  for  me  will  intercede, 
When  the  righteous  mercy  need  ? 

the  singer  and  prophet  of  Israel,  has  long  since  lost  the  impor- 
tance which  it  once  occupied  in  the  apologetic  theology  of  the 
fathers  and  schoolmen.  Yet  there  is  a  truth  underlying  this  use 
made  of  the  Sibylline  oracles,  and  the  fourth  Eclogue  of  Virgil, 
inasmuch  as  heathenism,  in  its  nobler  spirits,  was  groping  in  the 
dark  after  "the  unknown  God,"  and  bore  negative  and  indirect 
testimony  to  Christ,  as  the  Old  Testament  positively  and  directly 
predicted  and  foreshadowed  His  coming. 

^  The  liber  scrtptus  is  not  the  written  Bible  (as  a  translator  in 
the  London  "  Spectator,"  for  March  7,  1868,  strangely  mistakes 
it),  but  the  record  of  all  human  actions,  Dan.  vii.  10;  Rev.  xx.  12. 


n 

c 


DAY    OF    WRATH  !    THAT    DAY    FORETOLD.      375 

King  of  dreadful  majesty, 
Author  of  salvation  free, 
Fount  of  pity,  save  Thou  me  ! 

Recollect,  good  Lord,  I  pray, 
I  have  caused  Thy  bitter  way  : 
Don't  forget  me  on  that  Day  ! 

Weary  sat'st  Thou  seeking  me,^ 
Died'st,  redeeming,  on  the  tree, 
Let  such  toil  not  fruitless  be  !  ^ 

Judge  of  righteousness  severe. 
Grant  me  full  remission  here. 
Ere  the  reckoning-Day  appear. 

Sighs  and  tears  my  sorrow  speak, 
Shame  and  grief  are  on  my  cheek : 
Mercy,  mercy.  Lord  !  I  seek. 

Thou  didst  Mary's  guilt  forgive, 
And  absolve  the  dying  thief: 
Even  I  may  hope  relief.^ 


1  A  touching  allusion  to  Christ's  fatigue  on  the  journey  to 
Samaria,  John  iv.  6.  (Vulgate:  "Jesus  fatigatus  ex  itinere, 
sedebat  sic  supra  fontem.") 

2  It  is  related  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  that, 
rough  and  coarse  as  he  was,  he  could  never  repeat  this  stanza  in 
Latin  without  bursting  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

8  Copernicus  composed  the  following  epitaph  for  himself:  — 

"  Not  the  grace  bestowed  upon  Paul  do  I  pray  for ; 
Not  the  mercy  by  which  Thou  pardonedst  Peter : 
That  alone  which  Thou  grantedst  the  crucified  robber,  — 
That  alone  do  I  pray  for." 


376  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

Worthless  are  my  prayers,  I  know ; 
Yet,  O  Christ !  Thy  mercy  show  : 
Save  me  from  eternal  woe  ! 

Make  me  with  Thy  sheep  to  stand, 
Far  from  the  convicted  band, 
Placing  me  at  Thy  right  hand. 

When  the  cursed  are  put  to  shame, 

Cast  into  devouring  flame, 

With  the  blest  then,  call  my  name  ! 

Suppliant  at  Thy  feet  I  lie. 
Contrite  in  the  dust  I  cry  : 
Care  Thou  for  me  when  I  die  !  ^ 


DAY  OF  WRATH !  O  DAY  OF  MOURNING ! 


The  Dies  Ir.b,  translated  by  Dr.  W.  J.  Irons,  1848.  In  England,  this  is  consid- 
ered the  best  version  preserving  the  double  rhyme  of  the  Latin,  and  is  introduced  into 
the  Hymnal  Noted;  The  People's  Hymnal  (iZbj) ;  and  other  Collections. 


T~\AY  of  wrath  !  O  Day  of  mourning  ! 
■^^^   See  !  once  more  the  Cross  returning,^ 
Heaven  and  earth  in  ashes  burninir ! 


^  The  Earl  of  Roscommon,  in  the  moment  of  his  death,  re- 
peated, with  the  most  fervent  devotion,  these  last  lines,  in  his 

own  version :  — 

"  My  God,  my  Father,  and  my  Friend, 
Do  not  forsake  me  in  my  end !  " 

"  Dr.  Irons,  like  Dean  Alford  in  his  translation,  adopts  —  in  the 


D 


DAY    OF    WRATH  !    O    DAY    OF    MOURNING  !       377 

O  what  fear  man's  bosom  rendeth, 
When  from  heaven  the  Judge  descendeth, 
On  Whose  sentence  all  dependeth  ! 

Wondrous  sound  the  Trumpet  flingeth, 
Through  earth's  sepulchres  it  ringeth, 
All  before  the  throne  it  bringeth  ! 

Death  is  struck,  and  nature  quaking  ; 

All  creation  is  awaking, 

To  its  Judge  an  answer  making  ! 

Lo,  the  book  exactly  worded, 
Wherein  all  hath  been  recorded  ; 
Thence  shall  judgment  be  awarded. 

When  the  Judge  His  seat  attaineth, 
And  each  hidden  deed  arraigneth, 
Nothing  unavenged  remaineth. 

What  shall  I,  frail  man,  be  pleading, 
Who  for  me  be  interceding, 
When  the  just  are  mercy  needing  ! 

King  of  majesty  tremendous, 
Who  dost  free  salvation  send  us. 
Fount  of  pity,  then  befriend  us  ! 

place  of  the  usual,  and  no  doubt  original:   "Teste  David  cum 
Sibylla  "  —  the  reading  of  the  Paris  missal :  — 

"  Dies  irae,  dies  ilia, 
Crttcis  expandens  vexilla  [Matt.  xxiv.  30], 
Solvet  saeclum  in  favilla." 

it  would  be  better  to  substitute  for  the  second  line  :  — 

"  See  fulfilled  the  prophet's  warning." 


D 


cfl 


378  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

Think,  kind  Jesu  !  —  my  salvation 
Caused  Thy  wondrous  Incarnation  ; 
Leave  me  not  to  reprobation  ! 

Faint  and  weary  Thou  hast  sought  me, 
On  the  cross  of  suffering  bought  me  : 
Shall  such  grace  be  vainly  brought  me  ? 

Righteous  Judge  of  retribution, 

Grant  Thy  gift  of  absolution, 

Ere  that  reckoning-Day's  conclusion  ! 

Guilty,  now  I  pour  my  moaning. 
All  my  shame  with  anguish  owning : 
Spare,  O  God,  Thy  suppliant  groaning ! 

Thou  the  sinful  woman  savedst ; 
Thou  the  dying  thief  forgavest ; 
And  to  me  a  hope  vouchsafest. 

Worthless  are  my  prayers  and  sighing. 
Yet,  good  Lord,  in  grace  complying. 
Rescue  me  from  fires  undying  ! 

With  Thy  favored  sheep,  O  place  me  ! 
Nor  among  the  goats  abase  me  ; 
But  to  Thy  right  hand  upraise  me  ! 

While  the  wicked  are  confounded, 
Doomed  to  flames  of  woe  unbounded. 
Call  me,  with  Thy  saints  surrounded. 


THAT    DAY    OF   WRATH. 

Low  I  kneel,  with  heart-submission  : 
See,  like  ashes,  my  contrition ; 
Help  me,  in  my  last  condition  I 

[Ah  !  that  day  of  tears  and  mourning  ! 
From  the  dust  of  earth  returning, 
Man  for  judgment  must  prepare  him. 

Spare,  O  God  !  in  mercy  spare  him  ! 
Lord,  who  didst  our  souls  redeem, 
Grant  a  blessed  Requiem  !]  ^ 


379 


THAT   DAY   OF   WRATH! 


An  abridged  version  or  imitation  of  the  Dies  Ir^,  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  (d.  1832), 
which  has  passed  into  many  hymn-books.  Following  the  example  of  Goethe's  Faust, 
Sir  W.  Scott  introduced  these  stanzas  in  the  sixth  canto  of  his  Lay  of  the  Last  Min- 
strel. On  his  deathbed,  he  distinctly  repeated  portions  of  the  Latin  original.  "  To  my 
Gothic  ear,"  he  once  wrote  to  Crabbe,  "  the  Stabat  Mater,  the  Dies  Im,  and  some 
of  the  other  hymns  of  the  Catholic  Church,  are  more  solemn  and  aflfecting  than  the 
fine  classical  poetry  of  Buchanan." 


npHAT  Day  of  wrath  !  that  dreadful  Day, 

-^    When  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away ! 
What  power  shall  be  the  sinner's  stay  ? 
How  shall  he  meet  that  dreadful  Day  ? 

When,  shrivelling  like  a  parched  scroll. 
The  flaming  heavens  together  roll ; 


1  The  last  six  lines  (seven  in  the  Latin)  are  in  different  metre, 
and  no  part  of  the  original  hymn,  but  added,  in  the  Breviary, 
from  older  funeral  services  already  in  use. 


380  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

And  louder  yet,  and  yet  more  dread, 
Swells  the  high  trump  that  wakes  the  dead, 

Oh  !  on  that  Day,  that  wrathful  Day, 
When  man  to  judgment  wakes  from  clay, 
Be  Thou,  O  Christ !  the  sinner's  stay. 
Though  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away ! 


LO,  THE   DAY!  — THE  DAY  OF   LIFE. 

i^Dies  ilia,  dies  viicB.) 

X 


This  poem  is  a  counterpart  of  the  Vies  Irce,  although  perhaps  of  earlier  date,  and 
presents  the  cheerful  aspect  of  the  Day  of  judgment,  as  the  day  of  the  complete  re- 
demption of  the  faithful.  Translated  by  Mrs.  Charles  [.The  Voice  0/ Christian  Life 
in  Song,  p.  190). 


T    O,  the  Day  !  —  the  Day  of  Life, 
-*-^    Day  of  unimagined  light, 
Day  when  Death  itself  shall  die. 
And  there  shall  be  no  more  night ! 

Steadily  that  Day  approacheth. 
When  the  just  shall  find  their  rest. 

When  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
And  the  patient  reign  most  blest. 

See  the  King  desired  for  ages, 

By  the  just  expected  long, 
Long  implored,  at  length  He  hasteth, 

Cometh  with  salvation  stronor. 


LO,    THE    day! THE    DAY    OF    LIFE  I  381 

Oh,  how  past  all  utterance  happy, 

Sweet,  and  joyful  it  will  be 
When  they  who,  unseen,  have  loved  Him, 

Jesus  face  to  face  shall  see ! 

In  that  Day,  how  good  and  pleasant 
This  poor  world  to  have  despised  ! 

And  how  mournful,  and  how  bitter, 
Dear  that  lost  world  to  have  prized  ! 

Blessed,  then,  earth's  patient  mourners, 
Who  for  Christ  have  toiled  and  died, 

Driven  by  the  world's  rough  pressure 
In  those  mansions  to  abide  ! 

There  shall  be  no  sighs  or  weeping, 

Not  a  shade  of  doubt  or  fear ; 
No  old  age,  no  want  or  sorrow, 

Nothing  sick  or  lacking  there. 

There  the  peace  will  be  unbroken, 

Deep  and  solemn  joy  be  shed. 
Youth  in  fadeless  flower  and  freshness. 

And  salvation  perfected. 

What  will  be  the  bliss  and  rapture 
None  can  dream  and  none  can  tell, 

There  to  reign  among  the  angels, 
In  that  heavenly  home  to  dwell. 


u 


382  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

To  those  realms,  just  Judge,  oh,  call  me  ! 

Deign  to  open  that  blest  gate, 
Thou  whom,  seeking,  looking,  longing, 

I,  with  eager  hope,  await ! 


WAKE,  AWAKE,  FOR  NIGHT  IS  FLYING. 

(^JVacAe^  aufl  ruft  uns  die  Sthnme.) 


From  the  German  of  Philipp  Nikolai,  of  Unna,  Westphalia,  d.  1608.  Matt. 
XXV.  1-13.  The  midnight  call  of  a  Christian  watchman,  full  of  majesty  and  solemnity, 
with  an  appropriate  tmie,  which  is  called  the  "king  of  German  chorals"  (Schaff's 
German  Hymn-Book,  No.  157).  Translated,  in  the  metre  of  the  original,  by  Miss 
Catherine  Winkworth. 


"^T /"AKE,  awake,  for  night  is  flying, 
'  '    The  watchmen  on  the  heights  are  crying 
Awake,  Jerusalem,  at  last ! 
Midnight  hears  the  welcome  voices, 
And  at  the  thrilling  cry  rejoices  : 

Come  forth,  ye  virgins,  night  is  past ! 
The  Bridegroom  comes,  awake  ; 
Your  lamps  with  gladness  take  : 
Hallelujah  I 
And  for  His  marriage-feast  prepare, 
For  ye  must  go  to  meet  Him  there. 

Zion  hears  the  watchmen  singing, 
And  all  her  heart  with  joy  is  springing. 
She  wakes,  she  rises  from  her  gloom  ; 


D 


REJOICE,    ALL   YE    BELIEVERS  !  383 

For  her  Lord  comes  down  all-glorious, 
The  strong  in  grace,  in  truth  victorious  : 
Her  Star  is  risen,  her  Light  is  come  ! 
Ah,  come.  Thou  blessed  Lord, 
O  Jesus,  Son  of  God, 
Hallelujah  ! 
We  follow  till  the  halls  we  see 
Where  Thou  hast  bid  us  sup  with  Thee. 

Now  let  all  the  heavens  adore  Thee, 
And  men  and  angels  sing  before  Thee 

With  harp  and  cymbal's  clearest  tone ; 
Of  one  pearl  each  shining  portal. 
Where  we  are  with  the  choir  immortal 
Of  angels  round  Thy  dazzling  throne : 
Nor  eye  hath  seen,  nor  ear 
Hath  yet  attained  to  hear 
What  there  is  ours  ; 
But  we  rejoice,  and  sing  to  Thee 
Our  hymn  of  joy  eternally. 

REJOICE,    ALL   YE   BELIEVERS! 

{Ermuntert  euck,  ihr  Froinmen  .') 


From  the  German  of  Laurentius  Laurenti,  1700.  His  best  hymn.  The  origi- 
nal has  ten  stanzas  (Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  158).  Translated  by  Jane  Borthwick, 
in  Hymns  from  the  Land  of  Luther,  Edin.  1853.  Adjusted  to  the  measure  of  the 
original.  Alford  has  given  three  verses  of  it  a  place  in  his  Year  of  Praise,  1S67, 
No.  II.    The  Lutheran  Church-Book,  Philad.  1868,  No.  116,  gives  four  verses,  altered. 


"P  EJOICE,  all  ye  believers, 
-^^   And  let  your  lights  appear  ! 


D 


384  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

The  evening  is  advancing, 
And  darker  night  is  near  : 

The  Bridegroom  is  arising, 
And  soon  will  He  draw  nigh. 

Up  !  pray  and  watch  and  wrestle  : 
At  midnight  comes  the  cry. 

See  that  your  lamps  are  burning, 

Replenish  them  with  oil ; 
Look  now  for  your  salvation, 

The  end  of  earthly  toil. 
The  watchers  on  the  mountain 

Proclaim  the  Bridegroom  near  ; 
Go  meet  Him  as  He  cometh. 

With  Hallelujahs  clear ! 

Ye  wise  and  holy  virgins, 

Now  raise  your  voices  higher, 
Until,  in  songs  of  triumph. 

They  meet  the  angel-choir. 
The  marriage-feast  is  waiting. 

The  gates  wide  open  stand  ; 
Up  !  up  !  ye  heirs  of  glory  : 

The  Bridegroom  is  at  hand  ! 

Ye  saints  who  here  in  patience 
Your  cross  and  sufferings  bore, 

Shall  live  and  reign  for  ever, 
When  sorrow  is  no  more. 


tJ 


LO  !    HE    COMES    WITH    CLOUDS.  385 

Around  the  throne  of  glory, 

The  Lamb  ye  shall  behold  ; 
In  triumph  cast  before  Him 

Your  diadems  of  gold  ! 

There  flourish  palms  of  victory ; 

There  radiant  garments  are  ; 
There  stands  the  peaceful  harvest, 

Beyond  the  reach  of  war. 
There,  after  stormy  winter, 

The  flowers  of  earth  arise, 
And  from  the  grave's  long  slumber 

Shall  meet  again  our  eyes. 

Our  Hope  and  Expectation, 

O  Jesus  !  now  appear  ; 
Arise,  Thou  Sun,  so  longed  for, 

O'er  this  benighted  sphere  ! 
With  hearts  and  hands  uplifted, 

We  plead,  O  Lord  !  to  see 
The  day  of  our  redemption. 

That  brings  us  unto  Thee  ! 


LO!   HE  COMES   WITH   CLOUDS. 


By  Charles  Wesley,  1738.  This  hymn,  the  English  Dies  Iree,  was  originally 
part  second  of  a  hymn  in  three  parts,  entitled  "Thy  Kingdom  come,"  published  in 
Wesley's  Hymns  of  Intercession  for  all  Mankindy  1758.  A  somewhat  similar  hymn, 
in  the  same  metre,  was  published  by  the  Rev.  John  Cennick  (first  a  Methodist,  then 
a  Moravian,  d.  1755),  in  1752,  commencing,  — 

"  Lo,  He  cometh  !  countless  trumpets 
Blow  before  the  bloody  sign." 

25 


c& 


386  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

In  1760,  the  Rev.  Martin  Madan  amalgamated,  with  some  alterations,  these  hymns 
of  Wesley  and  Cennick,  adopting  the  first,  second,  and  fourth  stanzas  of  Wesley,  the 
third  and  fifth  stanzas  of  Cennick,  and  substituting  one  of  his  own  for  the  third  of 
Wesley.  About  1758,  Thomas  Olivers  composed,  in  the  same  metre,  a  judgment- 
byran  of  twenty  stanzas,  to  which  he  afterwards  added  sixteen  more.  Sir  Roundell 
Palmer,  Nos.  XC.  and  XCI.,  gives  Madan's  compilation  (six  stanzas),  and  eleven  out 
of  the  thirty-six  stanzas  of  Olivers.  I  prefer  the  original  form  ol  Wesley.  There  is 
much  confusion  about  the  text  and  authorship  of  these  hymns.  Compare  the  note  ot 
Rogers,  Lyra  Brit.,  p.  675. 


T    O  !  He  comes  with  clouds  descending, 
-*— ^    Once  for  favored  sinners  slain  ! 
Thousand,  thousand  saints  attending, 

Swell  the  triumph  of  His  train  : 
Hallelujah  ! 

God  appears  on  earth  to  reign  ! 

Every  eye  shall  now  behold  Him 

Robed  in  dreadful  majesty  ; 
Those  who  set  at  nought  and  sold  Him, 

Pierced,  and  nailed  Him  to  the  tree, 
Deeply  wailing, 

Shall  the  true  Messiah  see."^ 


1  After  this,  Madan  inserts  two  stanzas  from  Cennick,  with 
some  variations,  as  follows:  — 

"  Every  island,  sea,  and  mountain, 
Heaven  and  earth,  shall  flee  away ; 
All  who  hate  Him  must,  confounded, 
Hear  the  trump  proclaim  the  day  : 

Come  to  judgment ! 
Come  to  judgment,  come  away  I 
[Cennick,  orig. :  "  Stand  before  the  Son  of  Man."] 

"  Now  redemption,  long  expected, 
See  in  solemn  pomp  appear  I 
All  His  saints,  by  man  rejected, 
Now  shall  meet  Him  in  the  air: 


LO  !    HE    COMES    WITH    CLOUDS.  387 

The  dear  tokens  of  His  passion 

Still  His  dazzling  bod}^  bears, 
Cause  of  endless  exultation 

To  His  ransomed  worshippers  ; 
With  what  rapture 

Gaze  we  on  those  glorious  scars  ! 

Yea,  Amen  !  let  all  adore  Thee, 

High  on  Thine  eternal  throne  ! 
Saviour,  take  the  power  and  glory, 

Claim  the  kingdom  for  Thine  own  : 
Jah, Jehovah  !  ^ 

Everlasting  God,  come  down  ! 


Hallelujah  I 
See  the  day  of  God  appear  I" 
[Cknnick  :  "  Now  the  promised  kingdom's  come."] 

Then  follows,  in  Madan's  compilation,  a  stanza  which  seems 
to  be  his  own  :  — 

"  Answer  Thine  own  Bride  and  Spirit ; 
Hasten,  Lord,  the  general  doom ; 
The  new  heaven  and  earth  t'  inherit, 
Take  Thy  pining  exiles  home : 

All  creation 
Travails,  groans,  and  bids  Thee  come  1" 

^  Madan  changed  this  line  into  — 

"  O  come  quickly." 

Palmer  adopted  this  alteration;  but,  in  the  other  stanzas,  he 
retained  the  original  readings  of  Wesley. 


388  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 


DAY  OF   JUDGMENT! 


John  Newton,  1725-1807  {Olney  Hymns,  No.  77).     Likewise  on  the  basis  of  the 
Dies  Ira. 


"T^AY  of  judgment !  Day  of  wonders  1 
■^"^     Hark,  the  trumpet's  awful  sound, 
Louder  than  a  thousand  thunders, 

Shakes  the  vast  creation  round  ! 
How  the  summons 

Will  the  sinner's  heart  confound  ! 

See  the  Judge,  our  nature  wearing, 

Clothed  in  majesty  Divine  ! 
You,  who  long  for  His  appearing, 

Then  shall  say,  "This  God  is  mine." 
Gracious  Saviour, 

Own  me  in  that  day  for  Thine. 

At  His  call  the  dead  awaken. 
Rise  to  life  from  earth  and  sea ; 

All  the  powers  of  nature,  shaken 
By  His  looks,  prepare  to  flee. 

Careless  sinner, 
What  will  then  become  of- thee? 

Horrors  past  imagination 

Will  surprise  your  trembling  heart, 


DAY    OF  JUDGMENT  !  389 

When  you  hear  your  condemnation  :  — 
"Hence,  accursed  wretch,  depart! 

Thou  with  Satan 
And  his  angels  have  thy  part." 

Satan,  who  now  tries  to  please  you, 

Lest  you  timely  warning  take, 
When  that  word  is  past,  will  seize  you, — 

Plunge  you  in  the  burning  lake. 
Think,  poor  sinner. 

Thy  eternal  all's  at  stake. 

But  to  those  who  have  confessed, 
Loved,  and  served  the  Lord  below, 

He  will  say,  "  Come  near,  ye  blessed, 
See  the  kingdom  I  bestow. 

You  for  ever 
Shall  My  love  and  glory  know." 

Under  sorrows  and  reproaches, 

May  this  thought  your  courage  raise  : 

Swiftly  God's  great  Day  approaches, 
Sighs  shall  then  be  changed  to  praise ; 

We  shall  triumph 
When  the  world  is  in  a  blaze. 


a 


3 


390  CHRIST  JUDGING   THE   WORLD. 

THE  LORD  WILL  COME. 


By  Bishop  Reginald  Heber,  D.D.  ;  d.  at  Calcutta,  1826.    From  his  Poetical 
Works.    London,  1854,  p.  43.    For  Second  Sunday  in  Advent. 


nnHE  Lord  will  come !  the  earth  shall  quake, 
-*•    The  hills  their  fix^d  seat  forsake  ; 
And,  withering,  from  the  vault  of  night 
The  stars  withdraw  their  feeble  light. 

The  Lord  will  come  !  but  not  the  same 

As  once  in  lowly  form  He  came, 

A  silent  Lamb  to  slaughter  led, 

The  bruised,  the  suffering,  and  the  dead. 

The  Lord  will  come  !  a  dreadful  form, 
With  wreath  of  flame,  and  robe  of  storm  ; 
On  cherub  wings,  and  wings  of  wind. 
Anointed  Judge  of  human-kind  ! 

Can  this  be  He,  who  wont  to  stray 

A  pilgrim  on  the  world's  highway, 

By  power  oppressed,  and  mocked  by  pride? 

O  God  !  is  this  the  Crucified  ? 

Go,  tyrants  !  to  the  rocks  complain  ! 
Go,  seek  the  mountains'  cleft  in  vain  ! 
But  faith,  victorious  o'er  the  tomb, 
Shall  sing  for  joy,  the  Lord  is  come  ! 


JESUS,    THY    CHURCH.  39^ 


JESUS,   THY  CHURCH. 


William  Hiley  Bathurst,  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England;  b.  near 
Bristol,  1796.     See  notice  in  Rogers's  Lyra  Brit.,  p.  40. 


JESUS,  Thy  Church,  with  longing  eyes, 
^     For  Thy  expected  coming  waits  ; 
When  will  the  promised  light  arise, 
And  glory  beam  from  Zion's  gates  ? 

E'en  now,  when  tempests  round  us  fall. 
And  wintry  clouds  o'ercast  the  sky, 

Thy  words  with  pleasure  we  recall. 
And  deem  that  our  redemption's  nigh. 

Come,  gracious  Lord,  our  hearts  renew, 
Our  foes  repel,  our  wrongs  redress; 

Man's  rooted  enmity  subdue. 

And  crown  Thy  gospel  with  success. 

O  come  and  reign  o'er  every  land  ! 

Let  Satan  from  his  throne  be  hurled. 
All  nations  bow  to  Thy  command, 

And  grace  revive  a  dying  world. 

Yes,  Thou  wilt  speedily  appear ; 

The  smitten  earth  already  reels  ; 
And,  not  far  off,  we  seem  to  hear 

The  thunder  of  Thy  chariot  wheels. 


*%                                                                                             c 

^ 

c_ 

J 

t 

392                   CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

Teach  us,  in  watchfulness  and  prayer, 
To  wait  for  the  appointed  hour, 

And  fit  us  by  Thy  grace  to  share 

The  triumphs  of  Thy  conquering  power. 

» 

THE   CHARIOT!   THE  CHARIOT  ! 

By  Dr.  H.  H.  Milman,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's;  b.  in  London,  1791  ;  d.  1868. 

'  1  ^HE  chariot!  the  chariot!  its  wheels  roll  on  fire, 
■*-      As  the  Lord  cometh  down  in  the  pomp  of  His 

ire; 
Self-moving,  it  drives  on  its  pathway  of  cloud, 
And  the  heavens  with  the  burden  of  Godhead  are 
bowed. 

The  glory  !  the  glory  !     By  myriads  are  poured 
The  hosts  of  the  angels  to  wait  on  their  Lord ; 
And  the  glorified  saints,  and  the  martyrs  are  there, 
And  all  who  the  palm-wreath  of  victory  wear. 

The   trumpet !    the   trumpet !     The   dead    have   all 

heard. 
Lo  !  the  depths  of  the  stone-covered  charnels   are 

stirred ; 
From  the  sea,  from  the  land,  from  the  south  and  the 

north. 
The  vast  generations  of  man  are  come  forth  ! 

c 

(» 

r 

9                                                                                                                                w 

L 

THE    THRONE    OF    HIS    GLORY  !  393 

The  judgment !   the   judgment !     The   thrones    are 

all  set, 
Where  the  Lamb  and  the  white-vested  elders    are 

met; 
All  flesh  is  at  once  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord, 
And  the  doom  of  eternity  hangs  on  His  word ! 

Oh,  mercy  !  oh,  mercy  !  look  down  from  above. 
Creator  !  on  us.  Thy  sad  children,  with  love  ; 
When  beneath  to    their   darkness    the    wicked    are 

driven, 
May  our  sanctified  souls  find  a  mansion  in  heaven  ! 


THE  THRONE   OF   HIS   GLORY! 


"Then  shall  He  sit  upon  the  throne  of  His  Glory."     By  Dr.  W.  A.  Muhlen- 
berg, New  York,  1839. 


I  ^HE  Throne  of  His  Glory  !  —  as  snow  it  is  white, 
Upborne  in  the  air  by  the  legions  of  Light ; 
And,  startled  to  life  by  the  trumpet's  last  sound, 
The  hosts  of  the  nations  stand  waiting  around. 

The  Throne  of  His  Glory  !  —  there  lieth  unsealed 
The  Life-roll,   the  Death-roll,  of  names   ne'er  re- 
vealed. 
Now  secret  no  longer :  the  millions  divide 
To  the  right  and  the  left,  on  the  Throne's  either  side. 


394  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

The  Throne  of  His    Glory !  —  and    glorious   there 

stand 
The  elect  of  His  love,  and  the  sheep  of  His  hand ; 
While  dark  on  His  left,  shrunk  away  from  His  face. 
The  lost  ones  that  sought  not  the  Throne  of  His 

grace. 

The  Throne  of  His    Glory  !  —  my  poor   trembling 

soul ! 
Oh  what,  when  arraigned  there,    thy   dread    shall 

control, 
Of  that  doom  of  the  exiled,  "Ye  cursed  depart !  '* 
For  ever  and  ever  to  toll  on  the  heart. 

From  thy  Father  an  exile?    Thy  home  never  see  ? 
No,  child  of  His  mercy,  unchanging  and  free, 
Ere  creation  began,  in  the  councils  of  love. 
He  wrote  thee  an  heir  of  His  kingdom  above. 


LATE,   LATE,   SO   LATE! 


The  foolish  virgins.  Matt.  xxv.  ii,  12.  By  Alfred  Tennyson,  poet  laureate  of 
England.  From  Idylls  of  the  King  (the  Legends  of  King  Arthur),  first  publ.  1859 
(from  the  last  poem,  entitled  Guinevere,  which  has  been  called  his  highest  effort). 


L 


ATE,  late,  so  late  !  and  dark  the  night,  and  chill ! 
Late,  late,  so  late  !  but  we  can  enter  still. 
'Too  late,  too  late  !  ye  cannot  enter  now." 


COME,  LORD,  AND  TARRY  NOT.       395 

No  light  had  we  :  for  that  we  do  repent ; 
And,  learning  this,  the  Bridegroom  will  relent. 
"Too  late,  too  late  !  ye  cannot  enter  now." 

No  light,  so  late  !  and  dark  and  chill  the  night ! 
O  let  us  in,  that  we  may  find  the  light ! 

"Too  late,  too  late  !  ye  cannot  enter  now." 

Have  we  not  heard  the  Bridegroom  is  so  sweet  ? 
O  let  us  in,  though  late,  to  kiss  His  feet ! 

"No,  no;  too  late  !  ye  cannot  enter  now." 


COME,  LORD,  AND  TARRY  NOT. 


By  HoRATius  BoNAR,  D.D.     From  his  Hymns  of  Faith  and  Hope,  First  Series. 


"  Senuit  mundus."  —  Augustine. 


/^~^OME,  Lord,  and  tarry  not : 
^-^    Bring  the  long-looked-for  Day  ; 
O  why  these  years  of  waiting  here, 
These  ages  of  delay  ? 

Come,  for  Thy  saints  still  wait : 
Daily  ascends  their  sigh  ; 
The  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say,  Come ; 
Dost  Thou  not  hear  the  cry  ? 


396  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

Come,  for  creation  groans, 
Impatient  of  Thy  stay, 
Worn  out  with  these  long  years  of  ill, 
These  ages  of  delay. 

Come,  for  Thy  Israel  pines. 
An  exile  from  Thy  fold ; 
O  call  to  mind  Thy  faithful  word. 
And  bless  them  as  of  old ! 

Come,  for  Thy  foes  are  strong ; 
With  taunting  lip  they  say, 
"  Where  is  the  promised  Advent  now. 
And  where  the  dreaded  Day  ?  " 

Come,  for  the  good  are  few ; 
They  lift  the  voice  in  vain  : 
Faith  waxes  fainter  on  the  earth. 
And  love  is  on  the  wane. 

Come,  for  the  truth  is  weak. 
And  error  pours  abroad 
Its  subtle  poison  o'er  the  earth,  — 
An  earth  that  hates  her  God. 

Come,  for  love  waxes  cold ; 
Its  steps  are  faint  and  slow : 
Faith  now  is  lost  in  unbelief, 

Hope's  lamp  burns  dim  and  low. 


COME,    LORD,    AND    TARRY    NOT.  397 

Come,  for  the  grave  is  full ; 
Earth's  tombs  no  more  can  hold : 
The  sated  sepulchres  rebel, 

And  groans  the  heaving  mould. 

Come,  for  the  corn  is  ripe  ; 
Put  in  Thy  sickle  now, 
Reap  the  great  harvest  of  the  earth,  — 
Sower  and  reaper  Thou  ! 

Come,  in  Thy  glorious  might. 
Come  with  the  iron  rod. 
Scattering  Thy  foes  before  Thy  face, 
Most  mighty  Son  of  God  ! 

Come,  spoil  the  strong  man's  house, 
Bind  him  and  cast  him  hence ; 
Show  Thyself  stronger  than  the  strong. 
Thyself  Omnipotence. 

Come,  and  make  all  things  new ; 
Build  up  this  ruined  earth. 
Restore  our  faded  Paradise, 
Creation's  second  birth. 

Come,  and  begin  Thy  reign 
Of  everlasting  peace ; 
Come,  take  the  kingdom  to  Thyself, 
Great  King  of  righteousness  ! 


fl 


398  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 


HOPE   OF   OUR   HEARTS. 


"The  Church  waiting  for  the  Son  from  Heaven."    By  Sir  Edward  Denny,  Bart., 
a  writer  on  prophetic  topics.     From  his  Hymns  atid  Poems,  London  [1863]. 


T  TOPE  of  our  hearts,  O  Lord !  appear 
-^  ■*■    Thou  glorious  Star  of  day, 
Shine  forth,  and  chase  the  dreary  night, 
With  all  our  fears,  away  ! 

Strangers  on  earth,  we  wait  for  Thee  : 
Oh  !  leave  the  Father's  throne  ; 

Come  with  the  shout  of  victory,  Lord, 
And  claim  us  for  Thine  own  ! 

Oh  !  bid  the  bright  archangel  now 

The  trump  of  God  prepare. 
To  call  Thy  saints  —  the  quick,  the  dead 

To  meet  Thee  in  the  air. 

No  resting-place  we  seek  on  earth, 

No  loveliness  we  see  ; 
Our  eye  is  on  the  royal  crown 

Prepared  for  us  and  Thee. 

But,  dearest  Lord,  however  bright 

That  crown  of  joy  above, 
What  is  it  to  the  brighter  hope 

Of  dwelling  in  Thy  love  ? 


tn 


3 


c: 


U 


■3 


BRIDE    OF    THE    LAMB,    AWAKE  !  399 

What  to  the  joy — the  deeper  joy, 

Unmingled,  pure,  and  free  — 
Of  union  with  our  Living  Head, 

Of  fellowship  with  Thee  ? 

This  joy  e'en  now  on  earth  is  ours  : 
.    But  only.  Lord,  above, 
Our  hearts,  without  a  pang,  shall  know 
The  fulness  of  Thy  love. 

There,  near  Thy  heart,  upon  the  throne, 

Thy  ransomed  bride  shall  see 
What  grace  was  in  the  bleeding  Lamb 

Who  died  to  make  her  free. 


BRIDE  OF  THE  LAMB,   AWAKE! 


"The  Church  cheered  with  the  Hope  of  her  Lord's  Return."     By  Sir  Edwakd 
Denny  [1863]. 

T3RIDE  of  the  Lamb,  awake  !  awake  ! 
-'-^    Why  sleep  for  sorrow  now  ? 
The  hope  of  glory,  Christ,  is  thine, 
A  child  of  glory  thou. 

Thy  spirit,  through  the  lonely  night, 

From  earthly  joy  apart, 
Hath  sighed  for  one  that's  far  away, 

The  Bridegroom  of  thy  heart. 


D 


400  CHRIST  JUDGING    THE    WORLD. 

But  see  !  the  night  is  waning  fast, 

The  breaking  morn  is  near ; 
And  Jesus  comes,  with  voice  of  love, 

Thy  drooping  heart  to  cheer. 

He  comes  —  for  oh  !  His  yearning  heart 

No  more  can  bear  delay  — 
To  scenes  of  full,  unmingled  joy, 

To  call  His  bride  away. 

This  earth,  the  scene  of  all  His  woe, 

A  homeless  wild  to  thee, 
Full  soon,  upon  His  heavenly  throne, 

Its  rightful  King  shall  see. 

Thou,  too,  shalt  reign,  —  He  will  not  wear 

His  crown  of  joy  alone  ; 
And  earth  His  royal  bride  shall  see 

Beside  Him,  on  the  throne. 

Then  weep  no  more  :  'tis  all  thine  own. 

His  crown.  His  joy  divine  ; 
And,  sweeter  far  than  all  beside, 

He,  He  Himself,  is  thine  I 


tJ 


THE   LOVE   AND   LOVELINESS   OF 
CHRIST. 


"  I  AM  the  good  Shepherd:  the  good  Shepherd  giveth  His  life  for  the  sheep."  — 
John  X.  II. 

"  Hereby  perceive  we  the  love  of  God,  because  He  laid  down  His  life  for  us. "  — 
I  John  iii.  i6. 

"  Unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His  own  blood,  and 
hath  made  us  kings  and  priests  unto  God  and  His  Father,  —  to  Him  be  glory  and 
dominion  for  ever  and  ever.    Amen."  —  Rev.  i.  5,  6. 

A  LMIGHTY  GOD,  our  Heavenly  Father,  who  didst  so  love 
the  world  as  to  give  Thine  only-begotten  Son,  that  whoso- 
ever believeth  on  Him  should  not  pertsh,  but  have  everlasting 
life :  mercifully  grant  unto  us,  we  beseech  Thee,  that  Christ  may 
dwell  in  our  hearts  by  faith,  so  that  we,  being  rooted  and  grounded 
in  love,  may  be  able  to  comprehend,  with^ail  saints,  what  is  the 
breadth  and  length  and  depth  and  height,  and  to  know  the 
love  of  Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge ;  to  whom,  with  Thee 
and  the  Holy  Ghost,  be  glory  in  the  Church  throughout  all  ages, 
world  without  end.     Amen. 


'  Jesi;,  dulcedo  cordium, 
Fons  vivus,  lumen  mentium, 
Excedens  orane  gaudium, 
Et  omne  desiderium. 

Nee  lingua  valet  dicere, 
Nee  litera  exprimere, 
Expertus  potest  credere 
Quid  sit  Jesum  diligere." 

St.  Bernard. 
26 


fl 


THE    LOVE   AND   LOVELINESS 
OF   CHRIST. 

JESU,   NAME   ALL  NAMES   ABOVE. 


From  the  Greek  of  Theoctistus  of  the  Studium,  about  a.d.  890.  A  cento 
from  his  "  Suppliant  Canon  to  Jesus,"  the  only  thing  known  of  him.  Translated  by 
Dr.  J.  M.  Neale,  of  Sackville  College,  1862. 


TESU,  name  all  names  above, 

^    Jesu,  best  and  dearest, 

Jesu,  Fount  of  perfect  love. 
Holiest,  tenderest,  nearest ! 

Jesu,  source  of  grace  completest, 

Jesu  truest,  Jesu  sweetest, 
Jesu,  Well  of  power  divine. 
Make  me,  keep  me,  seal  me  Thine  ! 

Jesu,  open  me  the  gate 

Which  the  sinner  entered. 
Who  in  his  last  dying  state 

Wholly  on  Thee  ventured. 


404     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

Thou  whose  wounds  are  ever  pleading, 
And  Thy  passion  interceding, 

From  my  misery  let  me  rise 

To  a  home  in  Paradise  ! 

Thou  didst  call  the  prodigal ; 

Thou  didst  pardon  Mary  : 
Thou  whose  words  can  never  fall, 

Love  can  never  vary, 
Lord,  amidst  my  lost  condition 
Give  —  for  Thou  canst  give  —  contrition  ! 

Thou  can'st  pardon  all  mine  ill : 

If  Thou  wilt,  O  say,  "I  will" ! 

Woe,  that  I  have  turned  aside 

After  fleshly  pleasure  ! 
Woe,  that  I  have  never  tried 

For  the  heavenly  treasure  ! 
Treasure,  safe  in  homes  supernal ; 
Incorruptible,  eternal ! 

Treasure  no  less  price  hath  won 

Than  the  Passion  of  the  Son  ! 

Jesu,  crowned  with  thorns  for  me, 
Scourged  for  my  transgression  ! 

Witnessing,  through  agony. 
That  Thy  good  confession  ; 

Jesu,  clad  in  purple  raiment. 

For  my  evils  making  payment ; 
Let  not  all  Thy  woe  and  pain, 
Let  not  Calvary  be  in  vain  ! 


:z) 


JESU  !  THE  VERY  THOUGHT  OF  THEE.    405 

When  I  reach  Death's  bitter  sea, 

And  its  waves  roll  higher, 
Help  the  more  forsaking  me, 

As  the  storm  draws  nigher : 
Jesu,  leave  me  not  to  languish, 
Helpless,  hopeless,  full  of  anguish  ! 

Tell  me, — "Verily,  I  say, 

Thou  shalt  be  with  me  to-day  !  " 


JESU!    THE   VERY  THOUGHT   OF    THEE. 

{jfesu,  dulcis  memoria.') 


"  Jubiliis  rhythmicus  de  nomine  Jesu,"  the  sweetest  and  most  evangelical  (as  the 
Dies  Irce  is  the  grandest,  and  the  Stabat  Mater  the  most  pathetic)  hymn  of  the 
middle  ages,  though  somewhat  monotonous,  and  wanting  in  progress,  by  St.  Ber- 
nard, of  Clairvaux  (called  "Doctor  mellifluus,"  flowing  with  honey),  d.  1153.  The 
original  has  192  or  200  lines,  in  the  IVorks  of  Bernard,  ed.  Mabilion,  1719,  vol.  ii. 
pp.  914,  seq.  (forty-eight  quatrains);  Daniel,  I.  pp.  227-230;  Wackernagel,  I. 
pp.  117-120  (fifty  quatrains).  Trench,  p.  246,  g'.ves  a  selection  of  fifteen  quatrains, 
with  the  remark,  "Where  all  was  beautiful,  the  task  of  selection  was  a  hard  one." 
The  Roman  Breviary  has  abridged  and  divided  the  hymn  into  three  distmct  hymns 
(Jes7c.  dulcis  7nemoria  ;  Jesii,  Rex  admirabilis ;  and  Jesu,  decus  angelicum),  which 
are  here  given  in  the  smooth  translation  of  E.  Caswall  (from  the  Lyra  Catholica). 
The  first  part  has  also  been  translated  by  Neale  {Hymnal  Noted:  "Jesu  !  the  very 
thought  is  sweet"),  R,  Palmer  ("Jesus,  Thou  joy  of  loving  hearts  !  "),  J.  W.  Alex- 
ander ("Jesus,  how  sweet  Thy  memory  is!"),  Mrs.  Charles  ("O  Jesus!  Thy 
sweet  memory"),  and  others,  and  into  German  by  Moller,  Zinzendorf,  Sailer, 
KoNiGSFELD,  &c.  (see  Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  160). 


I. 


\ju^  U-^xM  AvvY.vtv 


(^y^esti,  dulcis  memorial 

'ESU  !  the  very  thought  of  Thee 
With  sweetness  fills  my  breast ; 


b 


406     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

V    But  sweeter  far  Thy  face  to  see, 
\       And  in  Thy  presence  rest. 

Nor  voice  can  sing,  nor  heart  can  frame, 

Nor  can  the  memory  find, 
A  sweeter  sound  than  Thy  blest  name, 

O  Saviour  of  mankind  ! 

O  Hope  of  every  contrite  heart, 

O  Joy  of  all  the  meek  I 
To  those  who  fall,  how  kind  Thou  art ! 

How  good  to  those  who  seek  ! 

But  what  to  those  who  find  ?     Ah  !  this 
Nor  tongue  nor  pen  can  show ; 

The  love  of  Jesus,  what  it  is,  ] 

None  but  His  loved  ones  know-^   j 

Jesu  !  our  only  joy  be  Thou, 
As  Thou  our  prize  shalt  be  ; 

Jesu  !  be  Thou  our  glory  now. 
And  through  eternity. 


1  Caswall  has  taken  the  liberty  of  making  two  fine  stanzas 
out  of  the  third,  which  reads  in  Latin  :  — 

"Jesu,  spes  poenitentibus 
Quam  plus  es  petentibus  ! 
Quam  bonus  Te  qusrentibus  I 
Sed  quid  invenientibus?  " 

The  Hymnal  Noted  renders  this  verse  more  faithfully  thus  :  — 

"Jesu  !  the  hope  of  souls  forlorn  I 
How  good  to  them  for  sin  that  mourn  ! 
To  them  that  seek  Thee,  oh,  how  kind  ! 
But  what  art  Thou  to  them  that  find? " 


JESU  !    THE    VERY    THOUGHT    OF    THEE.         407 

II. 

(jfesu,  Rex  admtrabilisJ) 

O  Jesu  !  King  most  wonderful  I 

Thou  Conqueror  renowned ! 
Thou  Sweetness  most  ineffable, 

In  whom  all  joys  are  found  ! 

When  once  Thou  visitest  the  heart, 

Then  truth  begins  to  shine  ; 
Then  earthly  vanities  depart ; 

Then  kindles  love  divine. 

O  Jesu  !  Light  of  all  below  ! 

Thou  Fount  of  life  and  fire  ! 
Surpassing  all  the  joys  we  know, 

All  that  we  can  desire  : 

May  every  heart  confess  Thy  name, 

And  ever  Thee  adore  ; 
And  seeking  Thee,  itself  inflame 

To  seek  Thee  more  and  more. 

Thee  may  our  tongues  for  ever  bless ; 

Thee  may  we  love  alone  ; 
And  ever  in  our  lives  express 

The  image  of  Thine  own. 


408     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

III. 

{yesu,  decus  ang-eltcum.^ 

O  Jesu  !  Thou  the  beauty  art 

Of  angel  worlds  above ; 
Thy  name  is  music  to  the  heart, 

Enchanting  it  with  love. 

Celestial  sweetness  unalloyed ! 

Who  eat  Thee  hunger  still ; 
Who  drink  of  Thee  still  feel  a  void, 

Which  nought  but  Thou  can  fill. 


O  my  sweet  Jesu  !  hear  the  sighs 
Which  unto  Thee  I  send  ; 

To  Thee  mine  inmost  spirit  cries, 
My  being's  hope  and  end  ! 


Stay  with  us,  Lord,  and  with  Thy  light 

Illume  the  soul's  abyss  ; 
Scatter  the  darkness  of  our  night. 

And  fill  the  world  with  bliss. 

O  Jesu  !  spotless  virgin-flower  ! 

Our  love  and  joy  !  to  Thee 
Be  praise,  beatitude,  and  power. 

Through  all  eternity. 


A 


i 


JESUS,    HOW    SWEET    THY    MEMORY    IS  !        4O9 


JESUS,  HOW   SWEET   THY  MEMORY  IS! 
^^^^  ^^^^^ 

Another  version,  in  part,  of  St.  Bernard's  "Jesu,  dulcis  memoria,"  by  Dr. 
James  W.  Alexander  (d.  1859),  first  published  in  Schaff's  Kirchen/reund,  for 
April,  1859. 

TESUS,  how  sweet  Thy  memory  is  ! 
*^    Thinking  of  Thee  is  truest  bHss  ; 
Beyond  all  honeyed  sweets  below 
Thy  presence  is  it  here  to  know. 

Tongue  cannot  speak  a  lovelier  word, 
Nought  more  melodious  can  be  heard, 
Nought  sweeter  can  be  thought  upon. 
Than  Jesus  Christ,  God's  only  Son. 

Jesus,  Thou  hope  of  those  who  turn, 
Gentle  to  those  who  pray  and  mourn. 
Ever  to  those  who  seek  Thee,  kind,  — 
What  must  Thou  be  to  those  who  find ! 

Jesus,  Thou  dost  true  pleasures  bring, 
Light  of  the  heart,  and  living  spring ; 
Higher  than  highest  pleasures  roll, 
Or  warmest  wishes  of  the  soul. 

Lord  in  our  bosoms  ever  dwell, 
And  of  our  souls  the  night  dispel. 
Pour  on  our  inmost  mind  the  ray. 
And  fill  our  earth  with  blissful  day. 


4IO     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

If  Thou  dost  enter  to  the  heart, 
Then  shines  the  truth  in  every  part ; 
All  worldly  vanities  grow  vile, 
And  charity  burns  bright  the  while. 

This  love  of  Jesus  is  most  sweet, 
This  laud  of  Jesus  is  most  meet, 
Thousand  and  thousand  times  more  dear, 
Than  tongue  of  man  can  utter  here. 

Praise  Jesus,  all  with  one  accord, 
Crave  Jesus,  all,  your  love  and  Lord, 
Seek  Jesus,  warmly,  all  below. 
And  seeking  into  rapture  glow  ! 

Thou  art  of  heavenly  grace  the  fount, 
Thou  art  the  true  Sun  of  God's  mount. 
Scatter  the  saddening  cloud  of  night ! 
And  pour  upon  us  glorious  light ! 


HEART   OF   CHRIST   MY   KING! 

{^Summi  regis  cor,  aveto.^     Va,.  A     U^U'TL')' 


One  of  the  seven  passion-hymns  of  St.  Bernard  (compare  pp.  162  and  178), 
addressed  to  the  heart  of  Christ  ("  Ad  Cor  Christi  ") ;  faithfully  translated  (for  the  first 
time,  I  believe)  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  E.  A.  Washburn,  of  New  York,  June,  1868.  Con- 
tributed.    See  the  Latin  in  Bernard's  Works,  and  in  Daniel,  IV.  p.  227;  Wack- 

ERNAGEL,   I.    p.   1 23.  

T  TEART  of  Christ  my  King  !  I  greet  Thee  : 
-^  -'-   Gladly  goes  my  heart  to  meet  Thee ; 
To  embrace  Thee  now  it  burneth, 


D 


HEART  OF  CHRIST  MY  KING  !    I  GREET  THEE.     4II 

And  with  eager  thirst  it  yearneth, 

Spirit  blest,  to  talk  with  Thee. 
Oh  !  what  love  divine  compelling  ! 
With  what  grief  Thy  breast  was  swelling ! 
All  Thy  soul  for  us  o'erflowing, 
All  Thy  life  on  us  bestowing, 

Sinful  men  from  death  to  free  ! 

Oh,  that  death  !  in  bitter  anguish, 
Cruel,  pitiless  to  languish  ! 
To  the  inmost  cell  it  entered, 
Where  the  life  of  man  was  centred, 

Gnawing  Thy  sweet  heartstrings  there. 
For  that  death  which  Thou  hast  tasted, 
For  that  form  by  sorrow  wasted, 
Heart  to  my  heart  ever  nearest, 
Kindle  in  me  love  the  dearest ; 

This,  O  Lord,  is  all  my  prayer. 

O  sweet  Heart !  my  choicest  blessing, 
Cleanse  my  heart,  its  sin  confessing ; 
Hardened  in  its  worldly  folly. 
Make  it  soft  again,  and  holy. 

Melting  all  its  icy  ground. 
To  my  heart's  core  come,  and  quicken 
Me  a  sinner,  conscience-stricken  ; 
Be  Thy  grace  my  soul  renewing. 
All  its  powers  to  Thee  subduing, 

Languishing  with  love's  sweet  wound. 


412      THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

Open  flower,  with  blossom  fairest, 
As  a  rose  of  fragrance  rarest ; 
Knit  to  Thee  mine  inmost  feehng ; 
Pierce,  then  pour  the  oil  of  healing ; 

What  to  love  of  Thee  is  pain? 
Naught  he  fears,  whom  Thy  love  calleth, 
No  self-sacrifice  appalleth ; 
Love  divine  can  have  no  measure, 
Every  death  to  him  is  pleasure, 

Where  such  holy  love  doth  reign. 

Cries  my  heart  with  living  voices  : 
In  Thee,  heart  of  Christ,  rejoices  ; 
Draw  Thou  nigh  with  gracious  motion, 
Knit  it,  till  in  full  devotion 

Thou  its  every  power  employ. 
Love  be  all  my  life  ;  no  slumber 
E'er  my  drowsy  thought  incumber ; 
To  Thee  praying.  Thee  imploring, 
Thee  aye  praising.  Thee  adoring. 

Thee  my  sempiternal  joy  ! 

Heart  Rose,  in  thy  fulness  blossom. 
Shed  Thy  perfume  o'er  my  bosom ; 
Be  Thy  beauty  in  me  growing ; 
Light  the  fires  for  ever  glowing 

On  the  altar  of  my  heart. 
Aid  me,  Thy  dear  image  wearing, 
E'en  Thy  wounds,  my  Jesu,  sharing, 


FAIREST    LORD  JESUS.  413 

Till  Thy  very  form  I  borrow, 
When  my  bosom  feels  Thy  sorrow, 
Piercing  with  its  keenest  dart. 

To  Thy  holy  heart,  oh,  take  me  ! 
Thy  companion,  Jesu,  make  me, 
In  that  sorrow  joy  exceeding, 
In  that  beauty  scarred  and  bleeding. 

Till  my  heart  be  wholly  Thine. 
Rest,  my  soul !  now  naught  shall  sever  ; 
After  Thee  it  follows  ever  ; 
Here  its  thirst  finds  glad  fulfilling ; 
Jesu  !  be  Thou  not  unwilling. 

Take  this  loving  heart  of  mine  ! 


FAIREST  LORD  JESUS. 

{Sch:nster  Herr  Jesu.-)     ^^^J_     Ur- XUt-Lc^ 


From  an  old  Gennan  hymn  of  the  12th  century  (see  Wichern's  Collection  of 
popular  songs  for  his  "  Rough  House,"  near  Hamburg,  entitled  :  Unsere  Lieder, 
No.  207  ;  and  Schaff's  German  S.  S.  Hymn-Book,  No.  44),  which  was  sung  by  the 
Crusaders,  and  then  forgotten,  until  it  was  recently  brought  to  light  again,  and  soon 
acquired  a  new  popularity.  

T^AIREST  Lord  Jesus, 

-*-     Ruler  of  nature  I 
Jesus,  of  God  and  of  Mary  the  Son  !  — 

Thee  will  I  cherish, 

Thee  will  I  honor  ; 
Thee,  my  delight  and  my  glory  and  crown ! 


414      THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

Fair  are  the  meadows, 

Fairer  the  woodlands, 
Robed  in  the  flowery  vesture  of  spring  : 

Jesus  is  fairer, 

Jesus  is  purer, 
Making  my  sorrowful  spirit  to  sing. 

Fair  is  the  moonshine, 

Fairer  the  sunlight. 
Than  all  the  starry,  celestial  host: 

Jesus  shines  brighter, 

Jesus  shines  purer. 
Than  all  the  angels  that  heaven  can  boast. 


O   LOVE,  WHO  FORMEDST   ME. 

(^Liebe,  die  Du  niich  ztim  Bilde.) 

From  the  German  of  Johann  Scheffler,  called  Angelus  Silesius,  1657. 
Translated  by  C.  Winkworth  (Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  312).  Another  version,  by 
John  Christian  Jacobi  (1722):  "  Lord,  Thine  image  Thou  hast  lent  me." 


/^  LOVE,  who  formedst  me  to  wear 
^^    The  image  of  Thy  Godhead  here ; 
Who  soughtest  me  with  tender  care 

Through  all  my  wanderings  wild  and  drear ; 
O  Love,  I  give  myself  to  Thee, 
Thine  ever,  only  Thine  to  be. 


& 


O    LOVE,    WHO    FORMEDST    ME.  415 

O  Love,  who  e'er  life's  earliest  dawn 
On  me  Thy  choice  hast  gently  laid ; 

O  Love,  who  here  as  man  wast  born 
And  wholly  like  to  us  wast  made  ; 

O  Love,  I  give  myself  to  Thee, 

Thine  ever,  only  Thine  to  be. 

O  Love,  who  once  in  time  wast  slain. 

Pierced  through  and  through  with  bitter  woe  ; 

O  Love,  who  wrestling  thus  didst  gain, 
That  we  eternal  joy  might  know  ; 

O  Love,  I  give  myself  to  Thee, 

Thine  ever,  only  Thine  to  be. 

O  Love,  of  whom  is  truth  and  light. 
The  Word  and  Spirit,  life  and  power. 

Whose  heart  was  bared  to  them  that  smite, 
To  shield  us  in  our  trial  hour ; 

O  Love.  I  give  myself  to  Thee, 

Thine  ever,  only  Thine  to  be. 

O  Love,  who  thus  hath  bound  me  fast, 
Beneath  that  gentle  yoke  of  Thine  ; 

Love,  who  hast  conquered  me  at  last 
And  rapt  away  this  heart  of  mine  ; 

O  Love,  I  give  myself  to  Thee, 

Thine  ever,  only  Thine  to  be. 

O  Love,  who  lovest  me  for  aye. 
Who  for  my  soul  dost  ever  plead ; 


1 


41 6     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

O  Love,  who  didst  my  ransom  pay, 

Whose  power  sufficeth  in  my  stead ; 
O  Love,  T  give  myself  to  Thee, 
Thine  ever,  only  Thine  to  be. 

O  Love,  who  once  shalt  bid  me  rise 
From  out  this  dying  life  of  ours  ; 

O  Love,  who  once  o'er  yonder  skies 
Shalt  set  me  in  the  fadeless  bowers  ; 

O  Love,  I  give  myself  to  Thee, 

Thine  ever,  only  Thine  to  be. 


tve<i*<t 


ONE  THING'S   NEEDFUL. 

(^Eins  t'st  notk  :  ack  Herr,  diess  Eine.) 


JoHANN  Heinrich  Schroder,  1697.  Based  on  Luke  x.  38-42  ("One  thing  is 
needful ;  and  Mary  hath  chosen  that  good  part ") ;  i  Cor.  i.  30  ("  Christ  Jesus,  who  of 
God  is  made  unto  us  wisdom,  and  righteousness,  and  sanctification,  and  redemption  "). 
One  of  the  most  popular  German  hymns  (Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  314).  This  trans- 
lation, by  Frances  Elizabeth  Cox  (Sacred  Hymns  from  the  German,  Lond.  1841, 
p.  137),  strictly  preserves  the  metre  of  the  original,  and  is  more  faithful  than  that  of 
Miss  Catherine  Winkworth  :  "One  thing  is  needful  1  Let  me  deem"  (Lyra 
Germ.,  I.   183). 

/^NE  thing's  needful:  th'^n,  Lord  Jesus, 

^^    Keep  this  one  thing  in  my  mind ; 

All  beside,  though  first  it  please  us, 

Soon  a  grievous  yoke  we  find. 
Beneath  it,  the  heart  is  still  fretting  and  striving ; 
No  true,  lasting  happiness  ever  deriving : 


ONE    thing's    needful.  417 

The  gain  of  this  one  thing  all  loss  can  requite, 
And  teach  me  in  all  things  to  find  some  delight. 

Soul,  wilt  thou  this  one  thing  find  thee? 

Seek  it  in  no  earthly  end  ; 

Leave  all  Nature  far  behind  thee, 

High  above  the  world  ascend : 
For,  where  God  and  man  both  in  one  are  united, 
With  God's  perfect  fulness  the  heart  is  delighted ; 
There,  there,  is  the  worthiest  lot  and  the  best, 
My  one  and  my  all,  and  my  joy  and  my  rest. 

How  were  Mary's  thoughts  devoted, 

Her  eternal  joy  to  find, 

As  intent  each  word  she  noted, 

At  her  Saviour's  feet  reclined  I 
How  kindled  her  heart,  how  devout  was  its  feeling, 
While  hearing  the  lessons  that  Christ  was  revealing  ! 
For  Jesus  all  earthly  concerns  she  forgot, 
And  all  was  repaid  in  that  one  happy  lot. 

Thus  my  longings,  heavenward  tendmg, 

Jesu,  rest  alone  on  Thee  : 

Help  me,  thus  on  Thee  depending, 

Saviour !  come  and  dwell  in  me. 
Although  all  the  world  should  forsake  and  forget 

Thee, 
In  love  I  will  follow  Thee,  ne'er  will  I  quit  Thee  ; 
For,  Jesus,  both  spirit  and  life  is  Thy  word  ; 
And  is  there  a  joy  which  Thou  dost  not  affbrd  ? 

27 


A 


418      THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

Wisdom's  highest,  noblest  treasure, 

Jesu  !  Hes  concealed  in  Thee  ; 

Grant  that  this  may  still  the  measure 

Of  my  will  and  actions  be. 
Humility  there,  and  simplicity,  reigning, 
My  steps  shall  in  wisdom  for  ever  be  training ; 
Oh  !  if  I  of  Christ  have  this  knowledge  divine, 
The  fulness  of  heavenly  wisdom  is  mine.-^ 

Christ,  Thou  art  the  sole  oblation 

That  I'll  bring  before  my  God  : 

In  his  sight,  I've  acceptation 

Only  through  Thy  streaming  blood. 
Immaculate  righteousness  now  I've  acquired, 
Since  Thou  on  the  tree  of  the  Cross  hast  expired : 
The  robe  of  Salvation  for  ever  is  mine ; 
In  this  shall  my  faith  through  eternity  shine. 

Let  my  soul,  in  full  exemption. 

Wake  up  in  Thy  likeness  now : 

Thou  art  made  to  me  redemption, 

My  sanctification  Thou. 
What  though,  all  through  life,  in  good  works  I  had 

striven. 
For  Thy  sake  alone  my  reward  should  be  given  : 


1  The  last  two  lines  are  often  quoted   in  German  devotional 
books : — 

"  IVenn  ich  nur  yesum  recht  kentu  und  weiss. 
So  hab  ich  der  VVeisheit  voUkomnunen  Preis." 


ONE    THINGS    NEEDFUL. 


419 


Oh,  let  me  all  perishing  pleasures  forego, 
And  Thy  life,  O  Jesus  !  alone  let  me  know  ! 

Where  should  else  my  hopes  be  centred  ? 

Grace  o'erwhelms  me  with  its  flood ; 

Thou,  my  Saviour,  once  hast  entered 

Holiest  heaven  through  Thy  blood. 
Eternal  redemption  for  sinners  there  finding, 
From  hell's  dark  dominion  my  spirit  unbinding, 
To  me  perfect  freedom  Thy  entrance  has  brought, 
And  childhke  to  cry,  "Abba,  Father,"  I'm  taught. 

Christ  Himself,  my  Shepherd,  feeds  me  ; 

Peace  and  joy  my  spirit  fill : 

In  a  pasture  green.  He  leads  me 

Forth  beside  the  waters  still. 
Oh  !  nought  to  my  soul  is  so  sweet  and  reviving, 
As  thus  unto  Jesus  alone  to  be  living  : 
True  happiness  this,  and  this  only  supplies, 
Through  faith  on  my  Saviour,  to  fasten  mine  eyes. 

Therefore,  Jesus,  my  Salvation, 

Thou  my  One,  my  All,  shalt  be  ! 

Prove  my  fixed  determination, 

Root  out  all  hypocrisy. 
Look  well  if  on  sin's  slippery  paths  I  am  hasting, 
And  lead  me,  O  Lord  !  in  the  way  everlasting  : 
This  one  thing  is  needful,  all  others  are  vain ; 
I  count  all  but  loss  that  I  Christ  may  obtain. 


fUL^>6t,^**AJ&^^c-^ 


t 


420     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 


DEAREST  OF  ALL  THE  NAMES  ABOVE. 


^  By  Isaac  Watts,  D.D. 

■pjEAREST  of  all  the  names  above, 
^-^    My  Jesus  and  my  God, 
Who  can  resist  Thy  heavenly  love, 
Or  trifle  with  Thy  blood? 

'TIS  by  the  merits  of  Thy  death 
Thy  Father  smiles  again  ; 

'Tis  by  Thine  interceding  breath 
The  Spirit  dwells  with  men. 

Till  God  in  human  flesh  I  see, 
My  thoughts  no  comfort  find  : 

The  holy,  just,  and  sacred  Three 
Are  terror  to  my  mind. 

But  if  Immanuel's  face  appear, 
My  hope,  my  joy,  begins  : 

His  name  forbids  my  slavish  fear, 
His  grace  removes  my  sins. 

While  Jews  on  their  own  law  rely. 
And  Greeks  of  wisdom  boast, 

I  love  th'  incarnate  Mystery, 
And  there  I  fix  my  trust. 


ft 


c 


LOVE    DIVINE,    ALL    LOVES    EXCELLING.        42 1 


LOVE  DIVINE,  ALL  LOVES   EXCELLING. 

Charles  Wesley,  1746.     From  Hymns/or  those  that  seek,  and  those  tJiat  have. 
Redemption  in  the  Blood  of  Jestts  Christ,  5th  ed.,  1756. 


T    OVE  Divine,  all  loves  excelling, 
■^-^  Joy  of  heaven,  to  earth  come  down. 
Fix  in  us  Thy  humble  dwelling, 

All  Thy  faithful  mercies  crown. 
Jesus,  Thou  art  all  compassion, — 

Pure,  unbounded  love  Thou  art : 
Visit  us  with  Thy  salvation, 

Enter  every  trembling  heart. 

Breathe,  O  breathe  Thy  loving  Spirit 

Into  every  troubled  breast ! 
Let  us  all  in  Thee  inherit. 

Let  us  find  that  second  rest. 
Take  away  the  love  of  sinning ;  ^ 

Alpha  and  Omega  be  ; 
End  of  faith,  as  its  beginning, 

Set  our  hearts  at  liberty. 

Come,  Almighty  to  deliver  I 
Let  us  all  Thy  life  receive  ; 

1  Others  read,  less  aptly :  "  our  ^ower  of  sinning." 


42  2      THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

Suddenly  return,  and  never, 
Never  more  Thy  temples  leave. 

Thee  we  would  be  always  blessing. 
Serve  Thee  as  Thy  host  above  ; 

Pray,  and  praise  Thee  without  ceasing, 
Glory  in  Thy  perfect  love. 

Finish,  then.  Thy  new  creation ; 

Pure  and  spotless  let  us  be ; 
Let  us  see  Thy  great  salvation 

Perfectly  secured  by  Thee,  — 
Changed  from  glory  into  glory, 

Till  in  heaven  we  take  our  place,  — 
Till  we  cast  our  crowns  before  Thee, 

Lost  in  wonder,  love,  and  praise  ! 


HOW  WONDROUS  ARE  THE  WORKS 
OF  GOD! 


Joseph  Hart,  an  Independent  minister  ;  b.  in  London,  1712 ;  d.  1768.  He  pub- 
lished a  Hy7nn-Book,  1759,  with  an  account  of  his  former  sinful  life,  and  the  blessed 
change  wrought  by  the  grace  of  God  in  his  heart. 


T  TOW  wondrous  are  the  works  of  God, 
-*■  -*-    Displayed  through  all  the  world  abroad  ! 
Immensely  great,  immensely  small, 
Yet  one  strange  work  exceeds  them  all. 


HOW  WONDROUS  ARE  THE  WORKS  OF  GOD  !      423 

He  formed  the  sun,  fair  fount  of  light, 
The  moon  and  stars,  to  rule  the  night ; 
But  night  and  stars  and  moon  and  sun 
Are  little  works  compared  with  one. 

He  rolled  the  seas,  and  spread  the  skies ; 
Made  valleys  sink,  and  mountains  rise  ; 
The  meadows  clothed  with  native  green, 
And  bade  the  rivers  glide  between. 

But  what  are  seas  or  skies  or  hills. 
Or  verdant  vales  or  gliding  rills. 
To  wonders  man  was  born  to  prove? 
The  wonders  of  redeeming  love  ! 

'Tis  far  beyond  what  words  express, 
What  saints  can  feel,  or  angels  guess. 
Angels,  that  hymn  the  great  I  Am, 
Fall  down  and  veil  before  the  Lamb. 

The  highest  heavens  are  short  of  this  ; 
'Tis  deeper  than  the  vast  abyss  ; 
'Tis  more  than  thought  can  e'er  conceive, 
Or  hope  expect,  or  faith  believe. 

Almighty  God  sighed  human  breath  ; 
The  Lord  of  life  experienced  death : 
How  it  was  done,  we  can't  discus^;. 
But  this  we  know,  'twas  done  for  us. 


424     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

Blest  with  this  faith,  then  let  us  raise 
Our  hearts  in  love,  our  voice  in  praise ; 
All  things  to  us  must  work  for  good, 
For  whom  the  Lord  hath  shed  His  blood. 

Trials  may  press  of  every  sort ; 
They  may  be  sore,  —  they  must  be  short ; 
We  now  believe^  but  soon  shall  view 
The  greatest  glories  God  can  show. 


THE  SAVIOUR!   O,   WHAT   CHARMS! 


Miss  Anne  Steele,  daughter  of  a  Baptist  clergyman  in  England,  1717-1778. 
The  following  hymn,  which,  in  this  abridged  form,  has  received  wide  currency,  is  a 
mere  extract  (verses  2,  3,  8,  37,  39)  from  a  hymn  on  the  life  of  Christ,  in  thirty-nine 
stanzas,  which  I  would  prefer  giving  in  full  if  it  were  not  too  long.     It  begins :  — 

"Come,  Heavenly  Dove,  inspire  my  song 
With  Thy  immortal  flame, 
And  teach  my  heart  and  teach  my  tongue 
The  Saviour's  lovely  name." 


V#      rfrtf*-^*!     ^ffarfi'K*^ 


'TPHE  Saviour  !  O,  what  endless  charms 

Dwell  in  that  blissful  sound  ! 
Its  influence  every  fear  disarms, 
And  spreads  sweet  comfort  round. 

Here  pardon,  life,  and  joys  divine 

In  rich  effusion  flow 
For  guilty  rebels,  lost  in  sin, 

And  doomed  to  endless  woe. 


5 


HARK,    MY    SOUL  !    IT    IS    THE    LORD.  425 

The  almighty  Former  of  the  skies 

Stooped  to  our  vile  abode ; 
While  angels  viewed  with  wondering  eyes, 

And  hailed  the  incarnate  God. 

O  the  rich  depths  of  love  divine ! 

Of  bliss  a  boundless  store  ! 
Dear  Saviour,  let  me  call  Thee  mine ; 

I  cannot  wish  for  more. 

On  Thee  alone  my  hope  relies  ; 

Beneath  Thy  cross  I  fall ; 
My  Lord,  my  Life,  my  Sacrifice, 

My  Saviour,  and  my  All. 


HARK,  MY  SOUL!  IT  IS  THE  LORD. 

"Lovest  thou  Me?"  —  John  xxi.  16.     By  William  Cowper  (1731-1800).    Olney 
Hvmns,  No.  118. 

TTARK,  my  soul !  it  is  the  Lord  ; 
-^  -^    'Tis  thy  Saviour,  hear  His  word ; 
Jesus  speaks,  and  speaks  to  thee : 
"  Say,  poor  sinner,  lov'st  thou  Me? 

"  I  delivered  thee  when  bound. 
And,  when  bleeding,  healed  thy  wound  ; 
Sought  thee  wandering,  set  thee  right, 
Turned  thy  darkness  into  light. 


426     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

"  Can  a  woman's  tender  care 
Cease  towards  the  child  she  bare? 
Yes  :  she  may  forgetful  be, 
Yet  will  I  remember  thee. 

"Mine  is  an  unchanging  love, 
Higher  than  the  heights  above  ; 
Deeper  than  the  depths  beneath  ; 
Free  and  faithful,  strong  as  death. 

"  Thou  shalt  see  My  glory  soon , 
When  the  work  of  grace  is  done  ; 
Partner  of  My  throne  shalt  be  ; 
Say,  poor  sinner,  lov'st  thou  Me?" 

Lord,  it  is  my  chief  complaint. 
That  my  love  is  cold  and  faint ; 
Yet  I  love  Thee  and  adore  : 
O  for  grace  to  love  Thee  more  ! 


HOW   SWEET   THE  NAME   OF  JESUS 


^^  /#&?^ 


The  Rev.  John  Newton,  d.  1807.     Olney  Hymns,  1779,  No.  S7-     One  of  the 
best  hymns  in  the  English  language. 


T  TOW  sweet  the  name  of  Jesus  sounds 
-*•  -^    In  a  believer's  ear  ! 
It  soothes  his  sorrows,  heals  his  wounds, 
And  drives  away  his  fear. 


t) 


HOW    SWEET    THE    NAME    OF  JESUS  !  427 

It  makes  the  wounded  spirit  whole, 

And  calms  the  troubled  breast ; 
'Tis  manna  to  the  hungry  soul, 

And  to  the  weary,  rest. 

Dear  name !  the  rock  on  which  I  build 

My  shield  and  hiding-place  ; 
My  never-failing  treasury,  filled 

With  boundless  stores  of  grace. 

By  Thee,  my  prayers  acceptance  gain, 

Although  with  sin  defiled  ; 
Satan  accuses  me  in  vain. 
And  I  am  owned  a  child. 

Jesus  !  my  Shepherd,  Husband,^  Friend  ; 

My  Prophet,  Priest,  and  King ; 
My  Lord,  my  Life,  my  Way,  my  End, 

Accept  the  praise  I  bring. 

Weak  is  the  effort  of  my  heart, 

And  cold  my  warmest  thought ; 
But  when  I  see  Thee  as  Thou  art, 

I'll  praise  Thee  as  I  ought. 

Till  then  I  would  Thy  love  proclaim, 

With  every  fleeting  breath  ; 
And  may  the  music  of  Thy  name 

Refresh  my  soul  in  death  ! 


428      THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 


ONE  THERE  IS,  ABOVE   ALL   OTHERS. 

"A  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother."  —  Prov.  xviii.  24.     By  the  Rev 
John  Newton,  1779  (Olney  Hymns,  No.  53). 


/^NE  there  is,  above  all  others, 
^^  Well  deserves  the  name  of  friend ; 
His  is  love  beyond  a  brother's, 

Costly,  free,  and  knows  no  end  : 
They  who  once  His  kindness  prove. 
Find  it  everlasting  love. 

Which  of  all  our  friends  to  save  us, 
Could  or  would  have  shed  their  blood? 

But  our  Jesus  died  to  have  us 
Reconciled  in  Him  to  God  : 

This  was  boundless  love  indeed, 

Jesus  is  a  friend  in  need. 

Men,  when  raised  to  lofty  stations. 
Often  know  their  friends  no  more  ; 

Slight  and  scorn  their  poor  relations, 
Though  they  valued  them  before  : 

But  our  Saviour  always  owns 

Those  whom  He  redeemed  with  groans. 


CI 

C 


I   WAS    A   WANDERING    SHEEP.  429 

When  He  lived  on  earth  abased, 
Friend  of  sinners  was  His  name ; 

Now,  above  all  glory  raised, 
He  rejoices  in  the  same  : 

Still  He  calls  them  brethren,  friends, 

And  to  all  their  wants  attends. 

Could  we  bear  from  one  another      f 

What  He  daily  bears  from  us? 
Yet  this  glorious  Friend  and  Brother     \ 

Loves  us,  though  we  treat  Him  thus  : 
Though  for  good  we  render  ill, 
He  accounts  us  brethren  still. 

Oh  !  for  grace  our  hearts  to  soften  ; 

Teach  us.  Lord,  at  length  to  love. 
We,  alas  !  forget  too  often 

What  a  Friend  we  have  above  ; 
But,  when  home  our  souls  are  brought, 
We  will  love  Thee  as  we  ought. 


I   WAS   A  WANDERING   SHEEP. 
^  

HoRATius  BoNAR,  D.D.,  of  Kelso.     First  Series  of  Hymns  of  Faith  and  Hope. 
"  Lost,  but  found."    1857. 

"  Arte  mirS,  miro  consilio, 
Quaerens  ovem  suam  summus  opilio, 
T  Ut  nosrevocaret  ab  exilio." 

W^  ^^^ti^    A^^   Ok^^   >4>.<_  OldHvmn. 

T  WAS  a  wandering  sheep, 
I  did  not  love  the  fold ; 


430     THE    LOVE   AND    LOVELINESS    OF   CHRIST. 

I  did  not  love  my  Shepherd's  voice, 

I  would  not  be  controlled. 
I  was  a  wayward  child, 

I  did  not  love  my  home ; 
I  did  not  love  my  Father's  voice, 

I  loved  afar  to  roam. 

The  Shepherd  sought  His  sheep, 
The  Father  sought  His  child  ; 

They  followed  me  o'er  vale  and  hill. 
O'er  deserts  waste  and  wild. 

They  found  me  nigh  to  death, 
'  Famished  and  faint  and  lone  ; 

They  bound  me  with  the  bands  of  love, 
They  saved  the  wandering  one  I 

(    They  spoke  in  tender  love, 

j         They  raised  my  drooping  head ; 

They  gently  closed  my  bleeding  wounds. 

My  fainting  soul  they  fed. 
They  washed  my  filth  away, 
They  made  me  clean  and  fair ; 
/       They  brought  me  to  my  home  in  peace,  — 
The  long-sought  wanderer ! 

Jesus  my  Shepherd  is, 

'Twas  He  that  loved  my  soul ; 

'Twas  He  that  washed  me  in  His  blood, 
'Twas  He  that  made  me  whole. 


JESUS,    HOW   MUCH    THY    NAME    UNFOLDS  !      43I 

'Twas  He  that  sought  the  lost, 
That  found  the  wandering  sheep  ; 

'Twas  He  that  brought  me  to  the  fold, 
'Tis  He  that  still  doth  keep. 

I  was  a  wandering  sheep, 

I  would  not  be  controlled ; 
But  now  I  love  my  Shepherd's  voice,  — 

I  love,  I  love  the  fold. 
I  was  a  wayward  child, 

I  once  preferred  to  roam  ; 
But  now  I  love  my  Father's  voice,  — 

I  love,  I  love  His  home  ! 


JESUS,  HOW  MUCH  THY  NAME  UNFOLDS  ! 


Mrs.  Mary  Peters  ;  d.  1836,  at  Clifton,  England. 


TESUS,  how  much  Thy  name  unfolds 
^    To  every  opened  ear  ! 
The  pardoned  sinner's  memory  holds 
None  other  half  so  dear. 

''Jesus  1 "  —  it  speaks  a  life  of  love. 
And  sorrows  meekly  borne  ; 

It  tells  of  sympathy  above, 
Whatever  makes  us  mourn. 


D 


432      THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

It  speaks  of  righteousness  complete, 

Of  holiness  to  God  ; 
And,  to  our  ears,  no  tale  so  sweet 

As  His  atoning  blood. 

Jesus,  the  one  who  knew  no  sin. 
Made  sin  to  make  us  just, 

"Worthy  art  Thou  our  love  to  win , 
And  worthy  all  our  trust. 

Thy  name  encircles  every  grace 
That  God  as  man  could  show ; 

There  only  can  the  Spirit  trace 
A  perfect  life  below. 

The  mention  of  Thy  name  shall  bow 
Our  hearts  to  worship  Thee  : 

The  chiefest  of  ten  thousand.  Thou  ; 
The  chief  of  sinners,  we. 


STILL   ON  THY  LOVING   HEART. 

{Still  an  Deinem  liebevollen  Herzen.) 


From  the  German  of  C.  J.  P.  Spitta  {Psaltery  ind  Harp,  1836).     "  Comfort  in 
Jesus'  Love."    Translated  by  R.  Massie  {Lyra  Dom.,  i860). 


OTILL  on  Thy  loving  heart  let  me  repose, 

*^   Jesus,  sweet  Author  of  my  joy  and  rest ; 

O  let  me  pour  my  sorrows,  cares,  and  woes, 

Into  Thy  true  and  sympathizing  breast ! 


tr' 


STILL,   ON   THY    LOVING    HEART.  433 

Thy  love  grows  never  cold,  but  its  pure  flame 
Seems  every  day  more  strong  and  bright  to  glow  : 

Thy  truth  remains  eternally  the  same, 
Pure  and  unsullied  as  the  mountain  snow. 

O  what  is  other  love  compared  with  Thine, 

Of  such  high  value,  such  eternal  worth  ! 
What  is  man's  love  compared  with  love  divine. 

Which  never  changes  in  this  changing  earth, — 
Love,  which  in  this  cold  world  grows  never  cold  ; 

Love,  which  decays  not  with  the  world's  decay  ; 
Love,  which  is  young  when  all  things  else  grow 
old, 

Which  lives  when  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass 
away? 

How  little  love  unchangeable  and  fixed 

In  this  dark  valley  doth  to  man  remain  ! 
With  what  unworthy  motive  is  it  mixed ! 

How  full  of  grief,  uncertainty,  and  pain  ! 
Love  is  the  object  which  attracts  all  eyes : 

We  win  it,  and  already  fear  to  part : 
A  thousand  rivals  watch  to  seize  the  prize, 

And  tear  the  precious  idol  from  our  heart. 

But  Thou,  in  spite  of  our  oflTences  past. 

And  those,  alas !  which  still  in  us  are  found. 

Hast  loved  us,  Jesus,  with  a  love  so  vast, 

No  span  can  reach  it,  and  no  plummet  sound. 
28 


n  n 


434     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

Though  the  poor  love  we  give  Thee  in  return 
Should  be  extinguished,  Thine  is  ever  true ; 

Its  vestal  fire  eternally  doth  burn, 

Though  everlasting,  always  fresh  and  new. 

Thou,  who  art  ever  ready  to  embrace 

All  those  who  truly  after  Thee  inquire  ; 
Thou  who  hast  promised  in  Thy  heart  a  place 

To  all  who  love  Thee,  and  a  place  desire, — 
O  Lord,  when  I  am  anxious  and  deprest, 

And,  dim  with  tears,  mine  eyes  can  hardly  see, 
O  let  me  lean  upon  Thy  faithful  breast, 

Rejoicing  that  e'en  I  am  loved  by  Thee  ! 


D 


OUR  LOT   IS   FALLEN. 

(£/«  lieblich  Loos  t'st  uns  gef alien. ^ 


"The  Happy  Lot."    From  the  German  of  Spitta,  1836.    Trsl.  by  Massie,  i860. 


O^ 


^UR  lot  is  fall'n  in  pleasant  places, 
A  goodly  heritage  is  ours  : 
To  Him,  whence  come  all  gifts  and  graces, 

Let  us  give  praise  with  all  our  powers ; 
He  chooses  us  of  His  free  grace. 
And  makes  us  His  peculiar  race. 


OUR    LOT    IS    FALLEN.  435 

He  undertook  our  souls'  salvation, 
Our  sad  condition  moved  him  so  ; 

And  came  to  us,  from  pure  compassion, 
To  raise  us  from  our  depths  of  woe  : 

O  wonderful,  surpassing  love, 

Which  brought  Him  to  us  from  above ! 

He  saw  in  us  no  real  beauty, 

No  virtue,  nor  intrinsic  worth  : 
Not  one  there  was  that  did  his  duty. 

For  all  were  sinners  from  their  birth ; 
Nor  was  there  one,  in  such  distress, 
Who  could  our  misery  redress. 

Then,  moved  at  heart  with  deep  compassion, 
The  Lord  stretched  out  His  arm  to  save ; 

And  His  own  life  for  our  salvation, 

And  therewith  all  things,  freely  gave,  — 

Adoption,  sonship,  and  with  this 

A  whole  eternity  of  bliss. 

O  Lord  of  goodness  so  amazing, 

Not  one  is  worthy,  no  !  not  one  ; 
We  stand  in  shame  and  wonder  gazing 

At  the  great  things  which  Thou  hast  done  : 
Thy  crowning  grace  and  precious  blood 
Have  reconciled  us  with  our  God 

We  feel  quite  certain  of  obtaining 

Nothing  but  goodness  from  Thy  hand, 


436     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

And  wend  our  way,  without  complaining, 

Through  dreary  mist  and  barren  land, 
With  heaven  in  view,  where  we  shall  be 
Joined  through  eternity  to  Thee. 

The  lines  are  fall'n  in  pleasant  places, 

A  goodly  heritage  is  ours ; 
And  gladly  would  we  share  the  graces 

Which  God's  great  goodness  richly  showers 
We  offer  them  alike  to  all 
Who  will  obey  the  gracious  call. 

It  grieves  us  sore  when  men  refuse  them, 
And  treat  our  offers  with  disdain, 

Or  by  neglect  for  ever  lose  them. 

And  make  the  grace  of  God  in  vain  : 

All  ye  who  thirst,  come  here  and  buy ; 

And  Christ  will  all  your  wants  supply. 


BENEATH  THE  SHADOW. 


Samuel  Longfellow,  a  Unitarian  cler^man  in  Massachusetts ;  brother  of  the 
celebrated  poet,  Henry  Wadsworth  L. ;  published,  in  conjunction  with  the  Rev.  S. 
Johnson,  Hymns  0/ the  Spirit,  1846. 

"OENEATH  the  shadow  of  the  Cross, 
^-^   As  earthly  hopes  remove. 
His  new  commandment  Jesus  gives. 
His  blessed  word  of  love. 


JESUS'   NAME    SHALL   EVER    BE.  437 

O  bond  of  union  strong  and  deep  ! 

O  bond  of  perfect  peace  ! 
Not  e'en  the  lifted  cross  can  harm, 

If  we  but  hold  to  this. 

Then,  Jesus,  be  Thy  Spirit  ours  ! 

And  swift  our  feet  shall  move 
To  deeds  of  pure  self-sacrifice, 

And  the  sweet  tasks  of  love. 


JESUS'  NAME  SHALL  EVER  BE. 


"  The  Blessed  Name  Jesus :  an  Evangelical  Rosary."  By  the  Rev.  Dr.  W.  A. 
MUhlenberg,  of  New  York,  1842.  Revised  by  the  author,  Aug.  1868,  for  this  Col- 
lection.   

TESUS'  name  shall  ever  be 
^    For  my  heart  its  Rosary. 
I  will  tell  it  o'er  and  o'er, 
Always  dearer  than  before. 

Ave  Mary  may  not  be 
For  my  heart  its  Rosary  ; 
Jesus,  Saviour,  all  in  all,  — 
Other  name  why  should  I  call  ? 

Morning  hymns  and  evening  lays, 
Noontide  prayer  and  midnight  praise, 
Heart  and  voice,  and  tune  and  time, 
Jesus'  name  they  all  shall  chime. 


cz: 


438      THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

Ever  new  and  fresh  the  strain  ; 
Of  all  themes,  the  sweet  refrain  : 
Time  bring  what  it  may  along, 
Jesus  still  the  unchanging  song. 

Redolent  with  healing  balm, 
Pleasure's  charm  and  trouble's  calm  ; 
All  of  Heaven  my  hope  and  claim, 
Grace  on  grace  in  Jesus'  name. 

In  my  soul  each  deepest  chord 
Ring  it  out.  One  Saviour  Lord  ; 
Jesus,  the  eternal  hymn 
Forth  from  saint  and  seraphim. 

Breathe  it,  then,  my  every  breath  ; 
Linger  on  my  last  in  death  ; 
Jesus  —  Rest  in  paradise  ; 
Jesus  —  Glory  in  the  skies  ! 


IN   THE    SILENT    MIDNIGHT    WATCHES. 


Christ  knocking  at  the  door.     By  A.  Cleveland  Coxe,  b.  1818;  Bishop  of  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  diocese  of  Western  New  York  (since  1866). 


TN  the  silent  midnight  watches, 
-^    List,  —  thy  bosom  door  ! 
How  it  knocketh,  knocketh,  knocketh, 
Knocketh  evermore  ! 


Z) 


fi 


THERE    IS    NO    LOVE    LIKE  JESUS     LOVE.       439 

Say  not  'tis  thy  pulse  is  beating : 

'Tis  thy  heart  of  sin  ; 
'Tis  thy  Saviour  knocks,  and  crieth, 

Rise,  and  let  Me  in  I 

Death  comes  down,  with  reckless  footstep, 

To  the  hall  and  hut : 
Think  you  Death  will  stand  a-knocking 

Where  the  door  is  shut? 
Jesus  waiteth,  waiteth,  waiteth  ; 

But  thy  door  is  fast ! 
Grieved,  away  thy  Saviour  goeth  : 

Death  breaks  in  at  last. 

Then  'tis  thine  to  stand  entreating 

Christ  to  let  thee  in  ; 
At  the  gate  of  heaven  beating. 

Wailing  for  thy  sin. 
Nay,  alas  !  thou  foolish  virgin. 

Hast  thou  then  forgot? 
Jesus  waited  long  to  know  thee, 

But  He  knows  thee  not ! 


THERE  IS  NO  LOVE  LIKE  JESUS'  LOVE. 


W.    E.    LiTTLEWOOD. 


'T^HERE  is  no  love  like  the  love  of  Jesus, 

Never  to  fade  or  fall. 
Till  into  the  fold  of  the  peace  of  God 
He  has  gathered  us  all. 


D 


440     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

There  is  no  heart  like  the  heart  of  Jesus, 

Filled  with  a  tender  lore  : 
Not  a  throb  or  throe  our  hearts  can  know 

But  He  suffered  before. 

There  is  no  eye  like  the  eye  of  Jesus, 

Piercing  far  away : 
Never  out  of  the  sight  of  its  tender  light 

Can  the  wanderer  stray  I 

There  is  no  voice  like  the  voice  of  Jesus  : 

Ah  !  how  sweet  its  chime, 
Like  the  musical  ring  of  some  rushing  spring 

In  the  summer-time  1 

O  might  we  listen  that  voice  of  Jesus  ! 

O  might  we  never  roam. 
Till  our  souls  should  rest,  in  peace,  on  His  breast, 

In  the  heavenly  home  ! 


SOULS  OF  MEN,  WHY  WILL  YE  SCATTER? 


"Come  to  Jesus."    By  Frederick  William  Faber,  D.D.  ;  b.  1815.     From  his 
Hytnns.,  Lond.  1862,  p.  289. 

OOULS  of  men  !  why  will  ye  scatter 
^^    Like  a  crowd  of  frightened  sheep? 
Foolish  hearts  !  why  will  ye  wander 
From  a  love  so  true  and  deep? 


D 


SOULS    OF    MEN,    WHY    WILL    YE    SCATTER?     44I 

Was  there  ever  kindest  shepherd 

Half  so  gentle,  half  so  sweet, 
As  the  Saviour  who  would  have  us 

Come  and  gather  round  His  feet? 

It  is  God :  His  love  looks  mighty, 

But  is  mightier  than  it  seems. 
'Tis  our  Father  ;  and  His  fondness 

Goes  far  out  beyond  our  dreams. 

There's  a  wideness  in  God's  mercy, 

Like  the  wideness  of  the  sea  ; 
There's  a  kindness  in  His  justice. 

Which  is  more  than  liberty. 

There  is  no  place  where  earth's  sorrows 
Are  more  felt  than  up  in  heaven ; 

There  is  no  place  where  earth's  failings 
Have  such  kindly  judgment  given. 

There  is  welcome  for  the  sinner, 
And  more  graces  for  the  good  ; 

There  is  mercy  with  the  Saviour ; 
There  is  healing  in  His  blood. 

There  is  grace  enough  for  thousands 

Of  new  worlds  as  great  as  this  ; 
There  is  room  for  fresh  creations 
'   In  that  upper  home  of  bliss. 


442      THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

For  the  love  of  God  is  broader 

Than  the  measures  of  man's  mind ; 

And  the  Heart  of  the  Eternal 
Is  most  wonderfully  kind. 

But  we  make  His  love  too  narrow 
By  false  limits  of  our  own  ; 

And  we  magnify  His  strictness 
With  a  zeal  He  will  not  own. 

There  is  plentiful  redemption 

In  the  blood  that  has  been  shed ; 

There  is  joy  for  all  the  members 
In  the  sorrows  of  the  Head. 

'Tis  not  all  we  owe  to  Jesus  : 

It  is  something  more  than  all,  — 

Greater  good  because  of  evil, 
Larger  mercy  through  the  fall. 

Pining  souls  !  come  nearer  Jesus  ; 

And,  oh,  come  not  doubting  thus, 
But  with  faith  that  trusts  more  bravely 

His  huge  tenderness  for  us. 

If  our  love  were  but  more  simple, 
We  should  take  Him  at  His  word : 

And  our  lives  would  be  all  sunshine 
In  the  sweetness  of  our  Lord. 


U 


I   BORE    WITH    THEE.  443 


I  BORE  WITH  THEE. 


"The  Love  of  Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge."  By  Christina  G.  Rossetti. 
From  Goblin  Market  and  other  Poems,  1856  (Boston  ed.,  pp.  81,  82).  The  best  of 
her  "Devotional  Pieces,"  if  not  of  all  her  poems. 


T  BORE  with  thee  long  weary  days  and  nights, 
Through  many  pangs  of  heart,  through  many 
tears ; 
I  bore  with  thee,  thy  hardness,  coldness,  slights, 
For  three  and  thirty  years. 

Who  else  had  dared  for  thee  what  I  have  dared  ? 

I  plunged  the  depth  most  deep  from  bliss  above ; 
I  not  My  flesh,  I  not  My  spirit  spared : 

Give  thou  Me  love  for  love. 

For  thee  I  thirsted  in  the  daily  drought, 
For  thee  I  trembled  in  the  nightly  frost : 

Much  sweeter  thou  than  honey  to  My  mouth  ; 
Why  wilt  thou  still  be  lost  ? 

I  bore  thee  on  My  shoulders,  and  rejoiced. 

Men  only  marked  upon  My  shoulders  borne 
The  branding  cross  ;  and  shouted  hungry-voiced, 

Or  wagged  their  heads  in  scorn. 


444      THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

Thee  did  nails  grave  upon  My  hands ;  thy  name 
Did    thorns   for   frontlets   stamp    between    Mine 
eyes  : 

I,  Holy  One,  put  on  thy  guilt  and  shame ; 
I,  God,  Priest,  Sacrifice. 

A  thief  upon  My  right  hand  and  My  left ; 

Six  hours  alone,  athirst,  in  misery  : 
At  length  in  death  one  smote  My  heart,  and  cleft 

A  hiding-place  for  thee. 

Nailed  to  the  racking  cross,  than  bed  of  down 
More  dear,  whereon  to  stretch  Myself  and  sleep  : 

So  did  I  win  a  kingdom,  —  share  My  crown  ; 
A  harvest,  —  come  and  reap. 


LISTEN  TO   THE  WONDROUS    STORY. 


Ellin  Isabelle  Tupper,  daughter  of  Martin  F.  Tupper,  the  author  of  Prover- 
bial Philosophy.     Contributed  to  Rogers's  Lyra  Brit.,  1867.     On  John  iii.  16. 


T    ISTEN  to  the  wondrous  story, 
^~^    How,  upon  the  Christmas  morn, 
Jesus  left  the  realms  of  glory, 

As  a  little  babe  was  born  ; 
Left  those  bright  and  happy  regions, 

Of  His  Father's  home  above, 
And  the  glorious  angel  legions. 

In  His  great  and  boundless  love  ! 


P 


LISTEN    TO    THE    WONDROUS    STORY.  445 

Came  into  a  lowly  manger, 

Dwelt  beneath  a  humble  shed, 
And,  among  His  own  a  stranger, 

Knew  not  where  to  lay  His  head ; 
Went  from  city  unto  city. 

All  His  life  was  doing  good, 
Weeping  o'er  His  friend  with  pity. 

When  beside  the  grave  He  stood. 

Love  all  human  love  exceeding 

Brought  Him  to  a  cruel  death ; 
Even  then,  though  hanging  bleeding 

On  the  cross,  His  latest  breath 
Spent  He  for  His  murderers,  praying 

To  His  Father  to  forgive  ; 
To  the  thief  repentant  saying, 

"  Thou  in  Paradise  shalt  live  !  " 

Oh,  what  love  in  God  the  Father 

To  bestow  His  only  Son  ! 
Oh,  what  love  in  Christ,  who  rather 

Than  the  world  should  be  undone. 
Came  Himself  to  seek  and  save  us, 

Came  to  claim  us  for  His  own ; 
Freely  all  our  sins  forgave  us. 

Raised  us  to  His  glorious  throne  ! 


44^     THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 


THERE  WAS   NO  ANGEL. 


The  Divine  Deliverer.    John  x.  30.    By  Mrs.  Grace  Webster  Hinsdale,  of 
Brooklyn,  N.Y.,  April,  1868.     Written  for  this  Collection. 


'T^HERE  was  no  angel  'midst  the  throng 

-^    Which  stood  around  the  throne, 
Who  could  God's  justice  satisfy, 
Or  for  man's  sin  atone. 

Nor  could  Jehovah's  love  endure 

A  messenger  to  send. 
To  bear  the  sinner's  punishment, 

The  guilty  to  befriend. 

Not  e'en  the  bursting  floods  of  wrath 
Could  quench  the  flames  of  love. 

Which  shining  hid  the  flashing  sword 
The  law  unsheathed  above. 

The  gracious  Father  spoke  a  word 

Into  His  dear  Son's  ear, 
Which,  echoing  o'er  the  trembling  earth, 

Dismissed  our  anxious  fear. 

And,  when  the  weary  ages  passed, 

God  to  the  world  appeared ; 
And  in  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem 

His  glory  was  ensphered. 


D 


cfi 


THERE    WAS    NO    ANGEL.  447 

No  creature  whom  His  hand  had  made, 

Came  with  that  word  of  hope  ; 
Nor  was  a  creature's  strength  required 

With  Satan's  power  to  cope. 

For  God  Himself  in  Mary's  Son 
Brought  grace  and  truth  to  light, 

And  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ 
We  read  His  love  aright. 

Jesus,  Thou  art  my  Lord,  my  God, 

Kneeling  I  bow  to  Thee  ; 
For  on  Thy  brow,  though  bruised  with  thorns, 

A  crown  divine  I  see. 

And  I  can  trust  the  mighty  work 

Which  must  be  done  for  me. 
To  those  dear  hands  of  love  and  power. 

Now  fastened  to  the  tree. 

If  Thou  wert  less  than  one  divine, 

My  soul  would  be  dismayed ; 
But  through  Thy  human  lips  God  speaks, — 

"'Tis  I,  be  not  afraid." 

Yet,  bruised  and  bleeding  on  the  cross, 

I  see  Thy  form  divine ; 
And,  though  upon  the  accursed  tree, 

I  joy  to  call  Thee  mine. 


D 


448      THE    LOVE    AND    LOVELINESS    OF    CHRIST. 

The  sword  which  should  have  pierced  my  life 

Has  entered  Thy  dear  breast, 
And  in  God's  faithfulness  to  Thee 

My  trusting  heart  shall  rest. 

Death  and  the  tomb  no  power  had 

To  hide  Thy  glory,  Lord ; 
For  Thou  didst  rise  'midst  heavenly  hosts, 

By  whom  Thou  wert  adored. 

And  after  men  were  comforted 

By  sight  of  Thee  again, 
Thou  didst  ascend  to  God's  right  hand, 

Their  greater  good  to  gain. 

Thou  wilt  not  leave  my  soul  alone, 

To  struggle  to  Thy  side. 
But  in  my  spirit's  helplessness 

Shall  strength  divine  abide. 

And,  when  I  stand  on  Jordan's  waves, 

Thou  shalt  my  weakness  hold, 
Until  at  last  my  weary  feet 

Shall  walk  the  streets  of  gold. 

There,  in  that  cloudless  light  serene. 

Before  the  shining  throne 
I'll  worship  at  the  feet  of  Him 

Who  did  for  me  atone. 


CHRIST   OUR   REFUGE   AND 
STRENGTH. 


"  Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 
—  Matt.  xi.  28. 

"  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go?  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life.  And  we 
believe,  and  are  sure,  that  Thou  art  that  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God."  —  John 
vi.  68,  69. 

/^  BLESSED  JESUS !  who  dost  invite  all  that  labor  and  are 
heavy  laden  to  come  unto  Thee,  that  they  may  find  rest  for 
their  souls :  mercifully  enable  us,  we  beseech  Thee,  so  to  cleave 
to  Thee,  that,  in  all  the  trials  and  temptations  of  this  mortal  life, 
we  may  do  Thy  will,  and  enjoy  Thy  peace,  which  the  world  can- 
not give  nor  take  away.     Amen. 

"  O  DOMINE  DeUS  1 

Speravi  in  Te ; 
O  care  mi  Jesu  I 
Nunc  libera  me. 
In  dura  catena, 
In  misera  poena 
Desidero  Te. 
Languendo,  gemendo, 
Et  genuflectendo, 
Adore,  implore, 
Ut  liberes  me." 
Front  the  Prayer-Book  of  Queen  Mary  Stuart  (?). 


29 


D 


3 

V 


CHRIST     OUR     REFUGE     AND 
STRENGTH. 


FIERCE  WAS  THE  WILD  BILLOW. 


From  the  Greek  of  Anatolius,  Patriarch  of  Constantinople,  d.  458,  by  J.  M. 
Nkale,  1862.    Christ  in  the  tempest    Mark  iv.  37-39. 


■piERCE  was  the  wild  billow, 

Dark  was  the  night ; 
Oars  labored  heavily, 

Foam  glimmered  white ; 
Mariners  trembled, 

Peril  was  nigh ; 
Then  said  the  God  of  God : 

"Peace!  it  is  I!" 

Ridge  of  the  mountain-wave, 
Lower  thy  crest ! 


5 


452    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 

Wail  of  the  stormy  wind,^ 

Be  thou  at  rest ! 
Peril  can  none  be, 

Sorrow  must  fly, 
Where  saith  the  Light  of  Light :  ^ 

"  Peace  !  it  is  I ! " 

Jesu,  Deliverer ! 

Come  Thou  to  me  ! 
Soothe  Thou  my  voyaging 

Over  life's  sea ! 
Thou,  when  the  storm  of  death 

Roars,  sweeping  by. 
Whisper,  O  Truth  of  Truth  ! 

"  Peace  !  it  is  1 1 " 


ART  THOU  WEARY? 

(Konov  re  Koi  Ka/iaTov.') 


By  St.  Stephen,  called  the  SabaIte,  from  the  monastery  of  St.  Sabas  or 
Sabbas,  near  Jerusalem,  a  nephew  of  John  of  Damascus,  d.  about  794.  The  follnwing 
sweet  stanzas  were  trsl.  by  Dr.  Neale,  not  from  the  Office-Books  of  the  Greek  Church, 
but  from  a  dateless  Constantinopolitan  book.    {Hymtis  o/the  Eastern  Church,  p.  8S.) 


A 


RT  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid, 
Art  thou  sore  distrest? 


^  Orig.  :  Euroclydon,  or  Eurycljdon,  a  heavy  wind. 

*  The  terms  "  God  of  God,"  and  "Light  ot"  Light,"  are  used 


D 


ART   THOU   WEARY?  453 

"Come  to  me,"  saith  One,  "and  coming 
Be  at  rest !  " 

Hath  He  marks  to  lead  me  to  Him, 

If  He  be  my  Guide? 
"  In  His  feet  and  hands  are  wound-prints, 
And  His  side." 

Is  there  diadem,  as  Monarch, 

That  His  brow  adorns? 
"Yea,  a  crown  in  very  surety. 
But  of  thorns  ! " 

If  I  find  Him,  if  I  follow, 

What  His  guerdoti  here  ? 
"  Many  a  sorrow,  many  a  labor. 
Many  a  tear." 

If  I  still  hold  closely  to  Him, 

What  hath  He  at  last  ? 
"Sorrow  vanquished,  labor  ended, 
Jordan  past ! " 

If  I  ask  Him  to  receive  me, 

Will  He  say  me  nay? 
"Not  till  earth,  and  not  till  heaven 
Pass  away ! " 

of  Christ  in  the  Nicene  Creed  against  the  Arian  heresy.  Anato- 
lius  was  a  member  of  the  fourth  general  Council  which  met  at 
Chalcedon,  451. 


r 


b 


454        CHRIST    OUR    REFUGE    AND    STRENGTH. 

Finding,  following,  keeping,  struggling, 

Is  He  sure  to  bless? 
"Angels,  martyrs,  prophets,  virgins. 
Answer,  Yes  I " 


LORD  JESUS   CHRIST,  IN  THEE  ALONE. 

(Allein  zu  Dir,  Herr  ^esu  Christ.) 


From  the  German  of  Johann  Schneesing,  1522.    Lyra  Germ.,  1\.  17s  (Schaff, 
No.  277). 

T    ORD  Jesus  Christ,  in  Thee  alone 
-*-^   My  hope  on  earth  I  place ; 
For  other  comforter  is  none. 

Nor  help  save  in  Thy  grace. 
There  is  no  man  nor  creature  here, 
No  angel  in  the  heavenly  sphere, 
Who  at  my  need  can  succor  me : 

I  cry  to  Thee, 
For  Thou  canst  end  my  misery. 

My  sin  is  very  sore  and  great, 

I  mourn  its  load  beneath  : 
O  free  me  from  this  heavy  weight. 

Through  Thy  most  precious  death  ! 
And  with  Thy  Father  for  me  plead, 
That  Thou  hast  suffered  in  my  stead, 
The  burden  then  from  me  is  rolled  : 

Lord,  I  lay  hold 
On  Thy  dear  promises  of  old. 


COURAGE,    MY    TEMPTED    HEART  !  455 

And  of  Thy  grace  on  me  bestow 

True  Christian  faith,  O  Lord  ! 
That  all  the  sweetness  I  may  know 

That  in  Thy  cross  is  stored,  — 
Love  Thee  o'er  earthly  pride  or  pelf. 
And  love  my  neighbor  as  myself; 
And  when  at  last  is  come  my  end, 

Be  Thou  my  friend. 
From  all  assaults  my  soul  defend. 

Glory  to  God  in  highest  heaven, 

The  Father  of  all  love  I 
To  His  dear  Son,  for  sinners  given, 

Whose  grace  we  daily  prove  ! 
To  God  the  Holy  Ghost  we  cry, 
That  we  may  find  His  comfort  nigh, 
And  learn  how,  free  from  sin  and  fear. 

To  please  Him  here. 
And  serve  Him  in  the  sinless  sphere. 


COURAGE,  MY  TEMPTED  HEART! 

{Brick  durch,  mein  angefochfnes  HerzJ) 


From  the  German  of  J.  H.  Bohmer,  1704.     Translated  by  Miss  Catherine 
WiNKWORTH  (Lyra  Germ.,  II.  192). 

/^"^OURAGE,  my  sorely-tempted  heart ! 
^^    Break  through  thy  woes,  forget  their  smart ; 
Come  forth,  and  on  Thy  Bridegroom  gaze, 
The  Lamb  of  God,  the  Fount  of  grace ; 
Here  is  thy  place  ! 


D 


456    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 

His  arms  are  open  ;  thither  flee  ! 
There  rest  and  peace  are  waiting  thee, 
The  deathless  crown  of  righteousness, 
The  entrance  to  eternal  bliss ; 
He  gives  thee  this  ! 

Then  combat  well,  of  naught  afraid, 
For  thus  His  follower  thou  art  made  : 
Each  battle  teaches  thee  to  fight. 
Each  foe  to  be  a  braver  knight, 
Armed  with  His  might. 

If  storms  of  fierce  temptations  rise, 
Unmoved  we'll  face  the  frowning  skies ; 
If  but  the  heart  is  true  indeed, 
Christ  will  be  with  us  in  our  need,  — 
His  own  could  bleed. 

I  flee  away  to  Thy  dear  cross. 
For  hope  is  there  for  every  loss. 
Healing  for  every  wound  and  woe  ; 
There  all  the  strength  of  love  I  know, 
And  feel  its  glow. 

Before  the  Holy  One  I  fall, 
The  Eternal  Sacrifice  for  all ; 
His  death  has  freed  us  from  our  load, 
Peace  on  the  anguished  soul  bestowed, 
Brought  us  to  God. 


NOW    I    HAVE    FOUND    THE    GROUND.  457 

How  then  should  I  go  mourning  on  ? 
I  look  to  Thee,  —  my  fears  are  gone  ; 
With  Thee  is  rest  that  cannot  cease, 
For  Thou  hast  wrought  us  full  release, 
And  made  our  peace. 

Thy  word  hath  still  its  glorious  powers. 
The  noblest  chivalry  is  ours  ; 

0  Thou  for  whom  to  die  is  gain, 

1  bring  Thee  here  my  all !  oh,  deign 

To  accept  and  reign  ! 


NOW  I  HAVE  FOUND  THE  GROUND. 

{^Ich  habe  nun  den  Grund gefunden.^ 


From  the  German  of  Joh.  Andr.  Rothe  (a  Moravian),  composed  for  Zinzendorf's 
birthday,  1728.  Freely  reproduced  by  John  Wesley,  1740.  (See  the  German,  ten 
werses,  with  a  note,  in  Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  290.) 


l^rOW  I  have  found  the  ground  wherein 
^    Sure  my  soul's  anchor  may  remain  ; 

The  wounds  of  Jesus,  for  my  sin 
Before  the  world's  foundation  slain  ; 

Whose  mercy  shall  unshaken  stay. 

When  heaven  and  earth  are  fled  away. 

Jesus,  Thine  everlasting  grace 
Our  scanty  thought  surpasses  far  : 

Thy  heart  still  melts  with  tenderness  ; 
Thine  arms  of  love  still  open  are, 


:z) 


458        CHRIST    OUR    REFUGE    AND    STRENGTH. 

Returning  sinners  to  receive, 

That  mercy  they  may  taste,  and  live. 

O  Love,  thou  bottomless  abyss ! 

My  sins  are  swallowed  up  in  Thee ; 
Covered  is  my  unrighteousness, 

No  spot  of  guilt  remains  in  me ; 
While  Jesus'  blood,  through  earth  and  skies, 
Mercy,  free,  boundless  mercy,  cries. 

By  faith  I  plunge  me  in  this  sea ; 

Here  is  my  hope,  my  joy,  my  rest ; 
Hither,  when  hell  assails,  I  flee. 

And  look  unto  my  Saviour's  breast : 
Away,  sad  doubt  and  anxious  fear ! 
Mercy  is  all  that's  written  here. 

Though  waves  and  storms  go  o'er  my  head, 

Though  strength  and  health  and  friends  be  gone ; 

Though  joys  be  withered  all,  and  dead. 
And  every  comfort  be  withdrawn, — 

On  this  my  steadfast  soul  relies, 

Jesus,  Thy  mercy  never  dies. 

Fixed  on  this  ground  will  I  remain. 

Though  my  heart  fail,  and  flesh  decay , 

This  anchor  shall  my  soul  sustain, 
When  earth's  foundations  melt  away : 

Mercy's  full  power  I  then  shall  prove, 

Loved  with  an  everlastinij  love. 


n^ 


JESU,  LOVER  OF  MY  SOUL.         459 


JESU,  LOVER   OF  MY  SOUL. 


Rev.  Charles  Wesley.  From  his  Hymns  and  Sacred  Poems,  1740.  One  of 
the  sweetest  and  most  popular  hymns  in  the  English  language,  a  worthy  companion 
of  Toplady's  "  Rock  of  Ages."  Judged  by  aesthetic  rules,  the  hymn,  like  St.  Ber- 
nard's "  Jesu,  dulcis  memoria,"  lacks  progress  of  ideas,  and  is  somewhat  repetitious. 
The  last  lines  of  the  first  stanza  would  form  an  appropriate  conclusion.  The  third 
stanza,  "  Wilt  Thou  not  regard  my  call,"  is  generally  omitted. 


TESU,  lover  of  my  soul, 

Let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly, 
While  the  waters  near  me  roll,^ 

While  the  tempest  still  is  high ; 
Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour  !  hide. 

Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past ; 
Safe  into  the  haven  guide, 

O  receive  my  soul  at  last ! 

Other  refuge  have  I  none  ; 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  Thee 
Leave,  ah  !  leave  me  not  alone  ; 

Still  support  and  comfort  me  : 
All  my  trust  on  Thee  is  stayed  ; 

All  my  help  from  Thee  I  bring ; 
Cover  my  defenceless  head 

With  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing. 


1  Originally :  — 

"  While  the  nearer  waters  roll." 


fl 


460    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 

Wilt  Thou  not  regard  my  call? 

Wilt  Thou  not  accept  my  prayer  ? 
Lo  !  I  sink,  I  faint,  I  fall ; 

Lo  !  on  Thee  I  cast  my  care. 
Reach  me  out  Thy  gracious  hand, 

While  I  of  Thy  strength  receive ; 
Hoping  against  hope  I  stand, 

Dying,  and  behold  I  live  !  ^ 

Thou,  O  Christ !  art  all  I  v^ant : 

More  than  all  in  Thee  I  find : 
Raise  the  fallen,  cheer  the  faint, 

Heal  the  sick,  and  lead  the  blind. 
Just  and  holy  is  Thy  name ; 

I  am  all  unrighteousness  : 
False,  and  full  of  sin  I  am ; 

Thou  art  full  of  truth  and  grace. 

Plenteous  grace  with  Thee  is  found,  — 

Grace  to  cover  all  my  sin : 
Let  the  healing  streams  abound  ; 

Make  and  keep  me  pure  within. 
Thou  of  life  the  Fountain  art ; 

Freely  let  me  take  of  Thee  : 
Spring  Thou  up  within  my  heart ; 

Rise  to  all  eternity. 

1  This  beautiful  verse  makes  it  plain  that  the  hjmn  was  sug- 
gested by  the  storj  of  Peter's  peril  and  deliverance  on  the  lake, 
Matt.  xiv.  26-31.     It  ought  to  be  restoi-ed  in  our  hjma-books. 


■3 


ROCK  OF  AGES,  CLEFT  FOR  ME.      461 


ROCK  OF  AGES,   CLEFT  FOR  ME. 


By  Augustus  Montague  Toplady,  Vicar  of  Broadherabury  in  Devonshire 
(d.  1778,  in  his  38th  year).  First  published  in  The  Gospel  Messenger,  March,  1776, 
signed  "A.  T.,"  under  the  title,  "A  Prayer,  living  and  dying,  for  the  holiest  believer 
in  the  world."  We  give  the  text  from  Toplady's  Works.  One  of  the  most  deeply 
evangelic  and  touching  hymns  in  any  language,  the  favorite  of  many  Christians  (e.g.  of 
Prince  Albert  in  his  dying  hour).  Faith  in  Christ,  as  the  only  and  all-sufficient  Sa- 
viour, has  never  found  a  more  melting  expression.  It  is  one  of  those  classic  lyrics 
which  sink  at  once  into  the  heart,  and  can  never  be  forgotten.  As  compared  with  the 
hymn  of  Charles  Wesley,  "  Jesu,  lover  of  my  soul,"  it  affords  a  striking  illustiation  of 
the  unity  of  Christian  life,  notwithstanding  the  diversity  of  theological  conviction.  The 
Calvinism  of  Toplady  and  the  Arminianism  of  Wesley,  which  were  arrayed  against 
each  other  in  fierce  controversy,  are  here  melted  together  into  one  common  love  to  the 
Saviour,  as  the  only  refuge  and  comfort  of  the  sinner  in  life  and  in  death.  Toplady's 
polemical  tracts,  and  Wesley's  polemical  verses  (against  the  Calvinistic  doctrine  of 
predestination),  are  now  mere  matters  of  history ;  but  the  devotional  hymns  of  both 
will  be  sung  to  the  end  of  time  by  Christians  of  all  creeds.  We  mention,  as  a 
curiosity,  that  even  the  Lyra  Caiholica  contains,  alongside  of  the  hymns  of  the 
Romish  Breviary  and  Missal,  this  hymn  of  Toplady,  but  gives  it  as  a  translation 
from  the  Latin,  "Jesus,  pro  me  perforatus."     See  the  next  hymn. 


"D  OCK  of  ages,^  cleft  for  me, 

•^^   Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee  ! 

Let  the  water  and  the  blood, 

From  Thy  riven ^  side  which  flowed, 

Be  of  sin  the  double  cure,^ 

Cleanse  me  from  its  guilt  and  power. 

Not  the  labors  of  my  hands, 
Can  fulfil  Thy  law's  demands  : 

1  Comp.  Isa.  xxvi.  4  ("  in  Jehovah  is  everlasting  strength,"  lit. 
"rock  of  ages,"  zur  olamun)\  Ps.  xviii.3;  xix.  14;  Cant.  ii.  14 
("in  the  clefts  of  the  rock,"  i.e.  the  wounds  of  Christ) ;   i  Cor.  x.  4. 

^  Hymn-books  generally  change  riven  into  tvouuded. 

3  Many  hymn-books  substitute  "perfect  cure,"  thus  destroy- 
ing the  obvious  reference  to  the  guilt  a.ndJiozver  of  sin. 


U 


462    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 

Could  my  zeal  no  respite  know, 
Could  my  tears  for  ever  flow, 
All  for  sin  could  not  atone, 
Thou  must  save,  and  Thou  alone. 

Nothing  in  my  hand  I  bring, 
Simply  to  Thy  cross  I  cling ; 
Naked  come  to  Thee  for  dress. 
Helpless  look  to  Thee  for  grace  : 
Foul  I  to  the  fountain  fly. 
Wash  me.  Saviour,  or  I  die. 

While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath  ; 
When  my  eye-strings  break  in  death  ;  ^ 
When  I  soar  through  tracts  unknown,^ 
See  Thee  on  Thy  judgment  throne. 
Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee  I 


JESUS,   PRO  ME  PERFORATUS. 

(Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  ;«e.) 


The  "Rock  of  Ages"  in  Latin.  Translated,  a.d.  1848,  by  the  English  states- 
man W.  E.  Gladstone  (b.  1809).     From  Translations  by  Lord  Lyttleton  and  the 

1  Better :  "  When  my  eyelids  close  in  death."  This  change, 
though  not  strictly  correct,  is  one  of  the  very  rare  instances  in 
whicli  compilers  of  hymn-books  have  improved  upon  the  author. 
Generally,  the  endless  alterations  of  English  and  German  hvmns 
are  changes  for  the  worse,  or,  as  the  Germans  say,  Verschlhnm- 
besserttitgen.  Even  this  invaluable  hymn  has  been  subjected  to 
ruthless  mutilations. 

^  Usually  changed  :  "  to  worlds  unknown." 


D 


JESUS,    PRO    ME    PERFORATUS.  463 

Right  Hon.  W.  E.  Gladstone,  Lond.  1861,  p.  142;  a  Collection  of  translations  of 
choice  poems  of  Milton,  Dryden,  Tennyson,  Gray,  Goldsmith,  Heber,  and  Toplady 
into  Greek  or  Latin,  and  of  several  selections  from  Homer,  ^schylus,  Horace,  Dante, 
Manzoni,  and  Schiller  into  English.  The  volume  was  published  in  commemoration 
of  the  double  marriage  of  the  two  authors  to  two  sisters  (July  2$,  1S39). 


TESUS,  pro  me  perforatus, 
Condar  intra  Tuum  latus. 
Tu  per  lympham  profluentem, 
Tu  per  sanguinem  tepentem, 
In  peccata  mi  redunda, 
Tolle  culpam,  sordes  munda. 

Coram  Te,  nee  Justus  forem, 
Quamvis  tota  vi  laborem, 
Nee  si  fide  nunquam  cesso, 
Fletu  stillans  indefesso : 
Tibi  soli  tantum  munus ; 
Salva  me,  Salvator  unus  ! 

Nil  in  manu  mecum  fero, 

Sed  me  versus  crucem  gero ; 

Vestimenta  nudus  oro, 

Opem  debilis  imploro ; 

Fontem  Christi  quasro  immundus, 

Nisi  laves,  moribundus. 

Dum  hos  artus  vita  regit ; 
Quando  nox  sepulchro  tegit ; 
Mortuos  cum  stare  jubes, 
Sedens  Judex  inter  nubes  ; 
Jesus,  pro  me  perforatus, 
Condar  intra  Tuum  latus. 


D 


464    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 


AWAKE,   SWEET   HARP   OF  JUDAH. 


"The   Hiding-place."     By  Hbnry  Kirke  White;  b.   1785,  at   Nottingham; 
d.  1806.     His  remains,  with  a  memoir,  have  been  edited  by  Southey. 


A  WAKE,  sweet  harp  of  Judah,  wake  ! 
Retune  thy  strings  for  Jesus'  sake  ; 
We  sing  the  Saviour  of  our  race. 
The  Lamb,  our  shield  and  hiding-place. 

When  God's  right  arm  is  bared  for  war. 
And  thunders  clothe  His  cloudy  car ; 
Where,  where,  oh  where  shall  man  retire, 
To  escape  the  horrors  of  His  ire  ? 

'Tis  He,  the  Lamb ;  to  Him  we  fly. 
While  the  dread  tempest  passes  by ; 
God  sees  His  well-beloved's  face, 
And  spares  us,  in  our  hiding-place. 

Thus,  while  we  dwell  in  this  low  scene. 
The  Lamb  is  our  unfailing  screen  ; 
To  Him,  though  guilty,  still  we  run, 
And  God  still  spares  us  for  His  Son. 

While  yet  we  sojourn  here  below, 
Pollutions  still  our  hearts  o'erflow  ; 
Fallen,  abject,  mean,  a  sentenced  race. 
We  deeply  need  a  hiding-place. 


D 


n 


^ 


^ 


WHEN    THROUGH    THE    TORN    SAIL.  465 

Yet,  courage  ;  days  and  years  will  glide, 
And  we  shall  lay  these  clods  aside ; 
Shall  be  baptized  in  Jordan's  flood, 
And  washed  in  Jesus'  cleansing  blood. 

Then  pure,  immortal,  sinless,  freed. 
We,  through  the  Lamb,  shall  be  decreed : 
Shall  meet  the  Father  face  to  face, 
And  need  no  more  a  hiding-place. 


WHEN  THROUGH   THE   TORN   SAIL. 


By  Bishop  Reginald  Heber,  of  Calcutta  (d.  1S26).     "  Help,  Lord,  or  we  perish  I" 


TT  THEN  through  the  torn  sail  the  wild  tempest 

^  ^    is  streaming, 
When  o'er  the  dark  wave  the  red  lightning  is  gleam- 
ing, 
Nor  hope  lends  a  ray,  the  poor  seaman  to  cherish, 
We  fly  to  our  Maker  :  "  Help,  Lord,  or  we  perish  !  " 

O  Jesus  !  once  tossed  on  the  breast  of  the  billow. 
Aroused  by  the  shriek  of  despair  from  Thy  pillow. 
Now  seated  in  glory  the  mariner  cherish. 
Who  cries  in  his  danger:  "Help,  Lord,  or  we  perish!" 

And  oh  !  when  the  whirlwind  of  passion  is  raging. 
When  hell  in  our  heart  his  wild  warfare  is  waging, 
Arise  in  Thy  strength.  Thy  redeemed  to  cherish  ; 
Rebuke  the  destroyer  :  "  Help,  Lord,  or  we  perish  !  " 

30 


466    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 


FROM  EVERY  STORMY  WIND. 


The  Mercy-seat.     Rev.  Hugh  Stowell,  b.  1799 ;  graduated  at  Oxford,   1822 ; 
Rural  Deau  of  Salford ;  d.  1865.     He  publ.  A  Collection  of  Psalms  arid  Hymns,  1831. 


"T^ROM  every  stormy  wind  that  blows, 
-^      From  every  swelling  tide  of  woes, 
There  is  a  calm,  a  sure  retreat : 
'Tis  found  beneath  the  mercy-seat. 

There  is  a  place  where  Jesus  sheds 
"  The  oil  of  gladness  "  on  our  heads  ; 
A  place  than  all  beside  more  sweet : 
It  is  the  blood-bought  mercy-seat. 

There  is  a  spot  where  spirits  blend, 
Where  friend  holds  fellowship  with  friend , 
Though  sundered  far,  by  faith  they  meet 
Around  one  common  mercy-seat. 

Ah  !  whither  could  we  flee  for  aid, 
When  tempted,  desolate,  dismayed? 
Or  how  the  hosts  of  hell  defeat. 
Had  suffering  saints  no  mercy-seat? 

There  !  there  on  eagle  wings  we  soar. 
And  sin  and  sense  molest  no  more  ;  * 

1  Charles   Rogers  {Lyra  Britannica,  p.  532)  reads  :  — 
"  And  time  and  sense  seem  all  no  more." 


SAVIOUR  !    WHEN,    IN    DUST,    TO    THEE.        467 

And  heaven  comes  down,  our  souls  to  greet, 
Where  glory  crowns  the  mercy-seat. 

O  may  my  hand  forget  her  skill, 
My  tongue  be  silent,  cold,  and  still. 
This  bounding  heart  forget  to  beat. 
If  I  forget  the  mercy-seat ! 


SAVIOUR!  WHEN,  IN  DUST,  TO  THEE. 


A  poetic  litany,  by  Sir  Robert  Grant,  an  eminent  philanthropist  and  statesman  ; 
b.  1785  ;  d.  1838,  as  Governor  of  Bombay.  He  wrote  twelve  sacred  lyrics.  This  is  his 
best,  and  one  of  the  best  in  the  English  language. 


O  AVIOUR !  when,  in  dust,  to  Thee 

•      Low  we  bow  the  adoring  knee  ; 
When,  repentant,  to  the  skies 
Scarce  we  lift  our  weeping  eyes : 
Oh  !  by  all  the  pains  and  woe 
Suffered  once  for  man  below. 
Bending  from  Thy  throne  on  high. 
Hear  our  solemn  Litany  I 

By  Thy  helpless  infant  years. 
By  Thy  life  of  want  and  tears  ; 
By  Thy  days  of  sore  distress 
In  the  savage  wilderness ; 
By  the  dread  mysterious  hour 
Of  the  insulting  tempter's  power : 


a 


A.68        CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 

Turn,  oh  !  turn  a  favoring  eye, 
Hear  our  solemn  Litany  ! 

By  the  sacred  griefs  that  wept 
O'er  the  grave  where  Lazarus  slept ; 
By  the  boding  tears  that  flowed 
Over  Salem's  loved  abode  ; 
By  the  anguished  sigh  that  told 
Treachery  lurked  within  Thy  fold  : 
From  Thy  seat  above  the  sky, 
Hear  our  solemn  Litany  ! 

By  Thine  hour  of  dire  despair 
By  Thine  agony  of  prayer ; 
By  the  cross,  the  nail,  the  thorn, 
Piercing  spear,  and  torturing  scorn  ; 
By  the  gloom  that  veiled  the  skies 
O'er  the  dreadful  sacrifice  : 
Listen  to  our  humble  cry, 
Hear  our  solemn  Litany  ! 

By  Thy  deep  expiring  groan  ; 
By  the  sad  sepulchral  stone ; 
By  the  vault,  whose  dark  abode 
Held  in  vain  the  rising  God  : 
O  !  from  earth  to  heaven  restored, 
Mighty  re-ascended  Lord, 
Listen,  listen  to  the  cry 
Of  our  solemn  Litany  ! 


n 


WHEN    GATHERING    CLOUDS.  469 


WHEN   GATHERING  CLOUDS. 


Sir  Robert  Grant, 


"XT  7HEN  gathering  clouds  around  I  view, 

'  '  And  days  are  dark,  and  friends  are  few, 
On  Him  I  lean,  who  not  in  vain 
Experienced  every  human  pain  : 
He  sees  my  wants,  allays  my  fears, 
And  counts  and  treasures  up  my  tears. 

If  aught  should  tempt  my  soul  to  stray 

From  heavenly  wisdom's  narrow  way. 

To  fly  the  good  I  would  pursue, 

Or  do  the  sin  I  would  not  do, 

Still  He,  who  felt  temptation's  power, 

Shall  guard  me  in  that  dangerous  hour. 

If  wounded  love  my  bosom  swell, 
Deceived  by  those  I  prized  too  well, 
He  shall  His  pitying  aid  bestow, 
Who  felt  on  earth  severer  woe  ; 
At  once  betrayed,  denied,  or  fled. 
By  those  who  shared  His  daily  bread. 

If  vexing  thoughts  within  me  rise. 
And  sore  dismayed  my  spirit  dies. 


^ 


470    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 

Still  He,  who  once  vouchsafed  to  bear 
The  sickening  anguish  of  despair, 
Shall  sweetly  soothe,  shall  gently  dry, 
The  throbbing  heart,  the  streaming  eye. 

When  sorrowing  o'er  some  stone  I  bend, 
Which  covers  all  that  was  a  friend, 
And  from  his  voice,  his  hand,  his  smile. 
Divides  me  for  a  little  while, 
Thou,  Saviour,  seest  the  tears  I  shed, 
For  Thou  didst  weep  o'er  Lazarus  dead. 

And  O  !  when  I  have  safely  past. 
Through  every  conflict  but  the  last, 
Still,  still  unchanging,  watch  beside 
My  painful  bed,  for  Thou  hast  died  ! 
Then  point  to  realms  of  endless  day, 
And  wipe  the  latest  tear  away  ! 


WHEN   OUR   HEADS   ARE  BOWED. 


Dr.  H.  H.  MiLMAN,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  author  oi  History  of  Latin  Christianity, 
and  other  works.    1839. 


TT  THEN  our  heads  are  bowed  with  woe, 

'  '    When  our  bitter  tears  o'erflow, 
When  we  mourn  the  lost,  the  dear,  — 
Gracious  Son  of  Mary,  hear  ! 


D 


U 


WHEN    OUR    HEADS    ARE    BOWED.  47 1 

Thou  our  throbbing  flesh  hast  worn  ; 
Thou  our  mortal  griefs  hast  borne ; 
Thou  hast  shed  the  human  tear : 
Gracious  Son  of  Mary,  hear  I 

When  the  sullen  death-bell  tolls 
For  our  own  departed  souls  ; 
When  our  final  doom  is  near,  — 
Gracious  Son  of  Mary,  hear  I 

Thou  hast  bowed  the  dying  head, 
Thou  the  blood  of  life  hast  shed ; 
Thou  hast  filled  a  mortal  bier : 
Gracious  Son  of  Mary,  hear  ! 

When  the  heart  is  sad  within, 
With  the  thought  of  all  its  sin ; 
When  the  spirit  shrinks  with  fear,  — - 
Gracious  Son  of  Mary,  hear  I 

Thou  the  shame,  the  grief,  hast  known, 
Though  the  sins  were  not  Thine  own  ; 
Thou  hast  deigned  their  load  to  bear : 
Gracious  Son  of  Mary,  hear  1 


i 


D 


472    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 


WITH  TEARFUL  EYES  I  LOOK  AROUND. 


Hugh  White,  1841.     From  The  Invalid's  Hymn-Book,  and  Sir  R.  Palmer's 
Book  of  Fraise. 


"\  T  yiTH  tearful  eyes  I  look  around  ; 

'  '     Life  seems  a  dark  and  stormy  sea ; 
Yet  'midst  the  gloom  I  hear  a  sound, 
A  heavenly  whisper,  "  Come  to  Me  !  " 

It  tells  me  of  a  place  of  rest, 

It  tells  me  where  my  soul  may  flee  : 

Oh  !  to  the  weary,  faint,  opprest, 

How  sweet  the  bidding,  "  Come  to  Me  ! 

When  the  poor  heart  with  anguish  learns 
That  earthly  props  resigned  must  be. 

And  from  each  broken  cistern  turns, 
It  hears  the  accents,  "  Come  to  Me  ! " 

When  against  sin  I  strive  in  vain, 
And  cannot  from  its  yoke  get  free, 

Sinking  beneath  the  heavy  chain. 

The  words  arrest  me,  "  Come  to  Me  ! " 

When  nature  shudders,  loath  to  part 
From  all  I  love,  enjoy,  and  see ; 

When  a  faint  chill  steals  o'er  my  heart, 
A  sweet  voice  utters,  "  Come  to  Me  !  " 


JUST    AS    I    AM, WITHOUT    ONE    PLEA.        473 

"  Come,  for  all  else  must  fail  and  die ; 

Earth  is  no  resting-place  for  thee  ; 
Heavenward  direct  thy  weeping  eye  ; 

I  am  thy  portion ;  Come  to  Me  !  " 

O  voice  of  mercy,  voice  of  love  ! 

In  conflict,  grief,  and  agony, 
Support  me,  cheer  me  from  above. 

And  gently  whisper,  "  Come  to  Me  !  " 


JUST  AS  I  AM,— WITHOUT  ONE  PLEA. 


Miss  Charlotte  Elliott  (1836),  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Venn  E.,  of 
St.  Mary's,  Brighton  (d.  1841),  and  sister  of  the  Rev.  Edward  B.  Elliott,  the  author 
of  Hora  Apocalypticce.  She  has  written  several  volumes,  contributed  one  hundred 
and  seventeen  hymns  to  The  Invalid's  Hymn-Book,  and  edited  the  last  edition  of  that 
compilation.  The  following  hymn  is,  perhaps,  the  most  popular,  certainly  one  of  the 
best,  from  her  pen. 

TUST  as  I  am,  —  without  one  plea, 
^  But  that  Thy  blood  was  shed  for  me, 
And  that  Thou  bidst  me  come  to  Thee, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come ! 

Just  as  I  am,  —  and  waiting  not 
To  rid  my  soul  of  one  dark  blot. 
To  Thee,  whose  blood  can  cleanse  each  spot, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  ! 

Just  as  I  am,  —  though  tossed  about, 

With  many  a  conflict,  many  a  doubt, 

Fightings  and  fears  within,  without, 

O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  ! 

n 


r 


474    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 

Just  as  I  am,  — poor,  wretched,  blind  ; 
Sight,  riches,  healing  of  the  mind, 
Yea,  all  I  need  in  Thee  to  find, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  ! 

Just  as  I  am, — Thou  wilt  receive, 
Wilt  welcome,  pardon,  cleanse,  relieve ; 
Because  Thy  promise  I  believe, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come ! 

Just  as  I  am,  — Thy  love  unknown 
Has  broken  every  barrier  down  ; 
Now  to  be  Thine,  yea,  Thine  alone, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  ! 

Just  as  I  am,  —  of  that  free  love 

"The  breadth,  length,  depth,  and  height"  to 

prove, — 
Here  for  a  season,  then  above,  — 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come ! 


JUST  AS   THOU  ART. 


Rev.  Russell  S.  Cook,  Secretary  of  the  "  New- York  Sabbath  Committee ; " 
d.  Sept.  4,  1864.  This  hymn,  the  counterpart  of  the  preceding  hymn,  was  sent  by  the 
author  to  Miss  Elliott,  and  printed  anonymously  in  tract  form.  It  found  a  place  in 
Sir  R.  Palmer's  Book  of  Praise,  No.  326,  but  without  the  second  and  last  stanzas, 
which  are  here  supplied  from  the  author's  copy. 


TUST  as  thou  art,  —  without  one  trace 
^    Of  love,  or  joy,  or  inward  grace, 
Or  meetness  for  the  heavenly  place, 
O  guilty  sinner,  come  ! 


JUST   AS   THOU   ART.  475 

Thy  sins  I  bore  on  Calvary's  tree ; 
The  stripes  thy  due  were  laid  on  Me, 
That  peace  and  pardon  might  be  free,  — 
O  wretched  sinner,  come  I 

Burdened  with  guilt,  wouldst  thou  be  blest? 
Trust  not  the  world ;  it  gives  no  rest : 
I  bring  relief  to  hearts  opprest,  — 
O  weary  sinner,  come  ! 

Come,  leave  thy  burden  at  the  cross  ; 
Count  all  thy  gains  but  empty  dross ; 
My  grace  repays  all  earthly  loss, — 
O  needy  sinner,  come  ! 

Come,  hither  bring  thy  boding  fears, 
Thy  aching  heart,  thy  bursting  tears  : 
'Tis  mercy's  voice  salutes  thine  ears ; 
O  trembling  sinner,  come  ! 

"  The  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say,  Come ;" 
Rejoicing  saints  re-echo.  Come ; 
Who  faints,  who  thirsts,  who  will,  may  come ; 
Thy  Saviour  bids  thee  come. 


b 

476    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 


I   HEARD   THE  VOICE   OF  JESUS   SAY. 


HoRATius  BoNAR,  D.D. ;  b.  in  Edinburgh,  1808;  minister  of  the  Free  Church  of 
Scotland.     1856.     "Come  unto  Me." 


T  HEARD  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 

■^    "  Come  unto  Me  and  rest ; 

Lay  down,  thou  weary  one,  lay  dow^n 

Thy  head  upon  My  breast." 
I  came  to  Jesus  as  I  was, 

Weary  and  worn  and  sad ; 
I  found  in  Him  a  resting-place. 

And  He  has  made  me  glad. 

I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 

"  Behold  !  I  freely  give 
The  living  water  :  thirsty  one, 

Stoop  down,  and  drink  and  live." 
I  came  to  Jesus,  and  I  drank 

Of  that  life-giving  stream  ; 
My  thirst  was  quenched,  my  soul  revived, 

And  now  I  live  in  Him. 

I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 
"  I  am  this  dark  world's  light ; 

Look  unto  Me,  thy  morn  shall  rise, 
And  all  thy  day  be  bright." 


0 


A   SINFUL   MAN   AM   I. 

I  looked  to  Jesus,  and  I  found 
In  Him  my  Star,  my  Sun ; 

And  in  that  light  of  life  I'll  walk 
Till  travelling  days  are  done. 


A  SINFUL  MAN  AM  I. 


HoRATius  BoNAR.    HymTis  of  Faith  and  Hope,  Third  Series,  i 
unto  Me." 


A    SINFUL  man  am  I, 
-^^   Therefore  I  come  to  Thee, 
To  Thee,  the  holy  and  the  just, 
That  Thou  mayst  pity  me. 

Wert  Thou  not  holy,  Lord, 

Why  should  I  come  to  Thee  ? 
It  is  Thy  holiness  that  makes 
Thee,  Lord,  so  meet  for  me. 

Wert  Thou  not  gracious.  Lord, 
I  must  in  dread  depart : 

It  is  the  riches  of  Thy  grace 
That  win  and  draw  my  heart. 

Wert  Thou  not  righteous,  Lord, 
I  dare  not  come  to  Thee  : 

It  is  a  righteous  pardon,  Lord, 
Alone  that  suiteth  me. 


477 

> 

868.     "  Come 


478    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 

Our  God  is  love,  —  we  come; 

Our  God  is  light,  —  we  stay; 
Abiding  ever  in  His  word. 

And  walking  in  His  way. 

Mercy  and  truth  are  His, 
Unchanging  faithfulness ; 

The  cross  is  all  our  boast  and  trust ; 
And  Jesus  is  our  peace. 

We  give  Thee  glory.  Lord ; 

Thy  Majesty  adore. 
Thee,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 

We  bless  for  evermore. 


LO!  THE  STORMS   OF  LIFE. 


Dr.  Henry  Alford;  b.  1810.    Written  1845.     From  his  Year  0/  Praise,  Lond. 
1867,  No.  48. 

T    O  !  the  storms  of  life  are  breaking  ; 
-*--''   Faithless  fears  our  hearts  are  shaking ; 
For  our  succor  undertaking, 

Lord  and  Saviour,  help  us  ! 

Lo  !  the  world  from  Thee  rebelling, 
Round  Thy  Church  in  pride  is  swelling  ; 
With  Thy  word  their  madness  quelling, 
Lord  and  Saviour,  help  us  ! 


THERE    IS    AN    EVERLASTING    HOME.  479 

On  Thine  own  command  relying, 
We  our  onward  task  are  plying ; 
Unto  Thee  for  safety  sighing, 
Lord  and  Saviour,  help  us  ! 

By  Thy  birth,  Thy  cross,  and  passion, 
By  Thy  tears  of  deep  compassion. 
By  Thy  mighty  intercession. 
Lord  and  Saviour,  help  us  ! 


THERE  IS  AN  EVERLASTING   HOME. 


Lotus  Salvatoris.    Matthew  Bridges.     1852. 


npHERE  is  an  everlasting  home, 

-^    Where  contrite  souls  may  hide  ; 
Where  death  and  danger  dare  not  come,  — 
The  Saviour's  side. 

It  was  a  cleft  of  matchless  love, 

Opened  when  He  had  died, 
When  mercy  hailed  in  worlds  above 
That  wounded  side. 

Hail !  Rock  of  Ages,  pierced  for  me, 

The  grave  of  all  my  pride ; 
Hope,  peace,  and  heaven  are  all  in  Thee, 
Thy  sheltering  side. 


480    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 

There  Issued  forth  the  double  flood. 

The  sin-atoning  tide, 
In  streams  of  water  and  of  blood, 
From  that  dear  side. 

There  is  the  only  Fount  of  Bliss, 

In  joy  and  sorrow  tried  ; 
No  refuge  for  the  heart  like  this,  — 
A  Saviour's  side. 

Thither  the  Church,  through  all  her  days, 

Points  as  a  faithful  guide. 
And  .celebrates  with  ceaseless  praise 
That  spear-pierced  side. 


TOSSED  WITH   ROUGH  WINDS. 


"  It  is  I :  be  not  ii<ra.\d."  —  Matt.  xiv.  27.  By  Mrs.  Andrew  Paton  Charles, 
nre  Elizabeth  Rundle.  She  published  several  books  anonymously.  The  following 
poem  was  revised  by  her  for  Rogers's  Lyra  Brit.,  1867,  p.  138. 


nr^OSSED  with  rough  winds,  and  faint  with  fear, 

-*-     Above  the  tempest,  soft  and  clear, 
What  still  small  accents  greet  mine  ear?  — 
'Tis  I :  be  not  afraid. 

'Tis  I  who  wash  thy  spirit  white ; 
'Tis  I  who  gave  thy  blind  eyes  sight ; 
'Tis  I,  thy  Lord,  thy  Life,  thy  Light. 
'Tis  I :  be  not  afraid. 


TOSSED   WITH    ROUGH   WINDS.  481 

These  raging  winds,  this  surging  sea, 
Bear  not  a  breath  of  wrath  to  thee ; 
That  storm  has  all  been  spent  on  Me. 
'Tis  I :  be  not  afraid. 

This  bitter  cup,  I  drank  it  first ; 
To  thee  it  is  no  draft  accurst ; 
The  hand  that  gives  it  thee  is  pierced. 
'Tis  I :  be  not  afraid. 

Mine  eyes  are  watching  by  thy  bed  ; 
My  arms  are  underneath  thy  head : 
My  blessing  is  around  thee  shed. 

'Tis  I :  be  not  afraid. 

When  on  the  other  side  thy  feet 
Shall  rest, — 'mid  thousand  welcomes  sweet, 
One  well-known  voice  thy  heart  shall  greet,  — 
'Tis  I :  be  not  afraid. 

From  out  the  dazzling  majesty, 
Gently  He'll  lay  His  hand  on  thee, 
Saying,  "Belov^^d,  lovest  thou  Me? 
'Twas  not  in  vain  I  died  for  thee. 

'Tis  I :  be  not  afraid." 


31 


D 


482    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 


MY  SAVIOUR,  'MID  LIFE'S   SCENE. 


"Save,  Lord,  or  I  perish."     Mrs.  Eliz.  A.  E.  Godwin.     Contributed  to  Ro- 
gers's Lyra  Brit.,  1867,  p.  240. 


"\ /TY  Saviour,  'mid  life's  varied  scene 

-^         Be  Thou  my  stay ; 
Guide  me,  through  each  perplexing  path, 

To  perfect  day. 
In  weakness  and  in  sin  I  stand ; 
Still  faith  can  clasp  Thy  mighty  hand. 
And  follow  at  Thy  dear  command. 

My  Saviour,  I  have  nought  to  bring 

Worthy  of  Thee ; 
A  broken  heart  Thou  wilt  not  spurn  : 

Accept  of  me. 
I  need  Thy  righteousness  divine, 
I  plead  Thy  promises  as  mine, 
I  perish  if  I  am  not  Thine. 

My  Saviour,  wilt  Thou  turn  away 

From  such  a  cry? 
My  refuge,  and  wilt  Thou  forget. 

And  must  I  die  ? 
Faith  trembles  ;  but  her  glance  of  light 
Has  pierced  through  regions  dark  as  night, 
And  entered  into  realms  of  light. 


THE  WAY  IS  LONG  AND  DREARY.      483 

My  Saviour,  'mid  heaven's  glorious  throng 

I  see  Thee  there, 
Pleading  with  all  Thy  matchless  love, 

And  tender  care. 
Not  for  the  angel-forms  around, 
But  for  lost  souls  in  fetters  bound, 
That  they  may  hear  salvation's  sound. 
My  Saviour,  thus  I  find  my  rest 

Alone  with  Thee, 
Beneath  Thy  wing  I  have  no  fear 

Of  what  may  be. 
Strengthened  with  Thy  all-glorious  might, 
I  shall  be  conqueror  in  the  fight, 
Then  give  to  Thee  my  crown  of  light. 

THE  WAY  IS  LONG  AND  DREARY. 

Adelaide  Anne  Procter;  b.  in  Bedford  Square,  London,  1833;  contribi  to  "  '"  '  ^  " 
Dickens  s  Household  IVcrds;  author  of  Legends  and  Lyrks,  1858,  i860,  and  other 
works;  jomed  the  Roman-Catholic  Church ;  d.  1864. 


"  I  ^HE  way  is  long  and  dreary, 
The  path  is  bleak  and  bare, 
Our  feet  are  worn  and  weary  ; 

But  we  will  not  despair. 
More  heavy  was  Thy  burthen, 

More  desolate  Thy  way  : 
O  Lamb  of  God,  who  takest 
The  sin  of  the  world  away. 
Have  mercy  on  us  ! 


484    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 

The  snows  lie  thick  around  us 

In  the  dark  and  gloomy  night, 
And  the  tempest  wails  above  us, 

And  the  stars  have  hid  their  light. 
But  blacker  was  the  darkness 

Round  Calvary's  cross  that  day. 
O  Lamb  of  God,  that  takest 

The  sin  of  the  world  away, 
Have  mercy  on  us  ! 

Our  hearts  are  faint  with  sorrow, 

Heavy  and  sad  to  bear ; 
For  we  dread  the  bitter  morrow, 

But  we  will  not  despair. 
Thou  knowest  all  our  anguish. 

And  Thou  wilt  bid  it  cease. 
O  Lamb  of  God,  who  takest 

The  sin  of  the  world  away, 
j/^  25"^  /  ^J  ^  -     Give  us  Thy  peace  ! 


IN  THE  HOURS  OF  PAIN  AND  SORROW. 

By  Mrs.  Helen  L.  Parmelee,  of  Albany,  N.Y. ;  d.  1864.     From  her  Poems 
Religiinis  and  Miscellaneous,  New  York,  1865,  p.  108  (a  posthumous  publication). 


TN  the  hours  of  pain  and  sorrow, 

When  the  world  brings  no  relief. 
When  the  eye  is  dim  and  heav}^ 
And  the  heart  oppressed  with  grief, 


■3 


IN    THE    HOURS    OF    PAIN    AND    SORROW.        485 

While  blessings  flee, 
Saviour,  Lord,  we  trust  in  Thee  ! 

When  the  snares  of  earth  surround  us,  — 

Pride,  ambition,  love  of  ease ; 
Mammon  with  her  false  allurements  ; 

Words  that  flatter,  smiles  that  please,  — 
Then,  ere  we  yield, 

Saviour,  Lord,  be  Thou  our  shield  ! 

When  forsaken,  in  distress. 

Poor,  despised,  and  tempest-tost. 
With  no  anchor  here  to  stay  us. 

Drifting,  sail  and  rudder  lost,  — 
Then  save  us.  Thou 

Who  trod  this  earth  with  weary  brow  ! 

Thou,  the  hated  and  forsaken  ! 

Thou,  the  bearer  of  the  cross  ! 
Crowned  of  thorns,  and  mocked,  and  smitten, 

Counting  earthly  gain  but  loss ; 
When  scorned  are  we. 

We  joy  to  be  the  more  like  Thee  ! 

Thou,  the  Father's  best  beloved  ! 

Thou,  the  throned  and  sceptred  King ! 
Who  but  Thee  should  we,  adoring. 

All  our  prayers  and  praises  bring. 
Thrice  blessed  are  we. 

Saviour,  Lord,  in  loving  Thee  ! 


U 


fl 


486         CHRIST    OUR    REFUGE    AJSTD    STRENGTH. 


AMID  THE  DARKNESS. 


"  The  Voice  of  Christ."    "  Peace,  be  stilL"  —  .^a?-^  iv.  39.     Dr.  Ray  Palmer. 
Written  1867,  and  first  published  in  his  Hymns  of  my  Holy  Hours,  New  York,  1867. 


A  MID  the  darkness,  when  the  storm 
■^^^   Swept  fierce  and  wild  o'er  Galilee, 
Was  seen  of  old,  dear  Lord,  Thy  form, 

All  calmly  walking  on  the  sea ; 
And  raging  elements  were  still. 
Obedient  to  Thy  sovereign  will. 

So  on  life's  restless,  heaving  wave, 

When  night  and  storm  my  sky  o'ercast, 

Oft  hast  Thou  come  to  cheer  and  save. 
Hast  changed  my  fear  to  joy  at  last. 

Thy  voice  hath  bid  the  tumult  cease, 

And  soothed  my  throbbing  heart  to  peace. 

But  ah  !  too  soon  my  fears  return. 
And  dark  mistrust  disturbs  anew  : 

What  smothered  fires  within  yet  burn  ! 
My  days  of  peace,  alas,  how  few  ! 

These  heart-throes,  — shall  they  ne'er  be  past  ? 

These  strifes,  —  shall  they  for  ever  last  ? 


I   NEED    THEE,    PRECIOUS  JESUS.  487 

I  heed  not  danger,  toil,  nor  pain. 

Care  not  how  hard  the  storm  may  beat, 

If  in  my  heart  Thy  peace  may  reign, 
And  faith  and  patience  keep  their  seat ; 

If  strength  divine  may  nerve  my  soul, 

And  love  my  every  thought  control. 

O  may  that  voice  that  quelled  the  sea, 
And  laid  the  surging  waves  to  rest, 

Speak  in  my  spirit,  set  me  free 

From  passions  that  disturb  my  breast. 

Jesus,  I  yield  me  to  Thy  will. 

And  wait  to  hear  Thy  "Peace,  be  still !  " 


I   NEED  THEE,   PRECIOUS  JESUS. 

From  the  People's  ffymnal,  Lond.  1S67,  No.  499,  where  it  is  ascribed  to  F.  Whit- 
field. 

T  NEED  Thee,  precious  Jesus, 

For  I  am  full  of  sin  ; 
My  soul  is  dark  and  guilty, 

My  heart  is  dead  within  : 
I  need  the  cleansinp-  fountain 

Where  I  can  always  flee, 
The  blood  of  Christ  most  precious, 

The  sinner's  perfect  plea. 


z> 


488    CHRIST  OUR  REFUGE  AND  STRENGTH. 

I  need  Thee,  blessed  Jesus, 

For  I  am  very  poor ; 
A  stranger  and  a  pilgrim, 

I  have  no  earthly  store  : 
I  need  the  love  of  Jesus 

To  cheer  me  on  my  way. 
To  guide  my  doubting  footsteps, 

To  be  my  strength  and  stay. 

I  need  Thee,  blessed  Jesus  ; 

I  need  a  friend  like  Thee,  — 
A  friend  to  soothe  and  pity, 

A  friend  to  care  for  me. 
I  need  the  Heart  of  Jesus 

To  feel  each  anxious  care, 
To  tell  my  every  trial 

And  all  my  sorrows  share. 

I  need  Thee,  blessed  Jesus, 

And  hope  to  see  Thee  soon, 
Encircled  with  the  rainbow. 

And  seated  on  Thy  throne  ! 
There,  with  Thy  blood-bought  children, 

My  joy  shall  ever  be, 
-     To  sing  Thy  praise.  Lord  Jesus, 

To  gaze,  my  Lord,  on  Thee. 


ff 


A 


CHRIST   OUR   PEACE. 


"  Peace  I  leave  with  you,  My  peace  I  give  unto  you :  not  as  the  world  giveth, 
give  I  unto  you.  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be  afraid."  —  John 
xiv.  27. 

"He  is  our  peace."  —  Eph.  ii.  14. 

"  The  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding,  shall  keep  your  hearts  and 
minds  through  Jesus  Christ."  —  Phil.  iv.  7. 

TDLESSED   Saviour!  who,  by  the  shedding  of  Thy  precious 


D 


blood  on  the  Cross,  and  by  Thy  glorious  triumph  over  death 


and  hell,  hast  procured  for  us  the  remission  of  sins,  and  the  peace 
with  God  which  passeth  all  understanding:  grant  unto  us,  we 
humbly  beseech  Thee,  such  an  abiding  sense  of  Thy  presence, 
that,  amidst  the  trials  and  tribulations  of  this  mortal  life,  our 
hearts  may  be  at  peace  in  the  enjoyment  of  Thy  favor,  and  in 
hopeful  anticipation  of  the  glory  of  the  saints  in  light,  who 
praise  Thee,  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  for  ever  and 
ever.    Amen. 

(   "  Without  Thy  presence,  wealth  is  bags  of  cares ;    \ 
Wisdom,  but  folly;  joy,  disquiet,  sadness;  ^ 

Friendship  is  treason,  and  delights  are  snares ; 
Pleasure's  but  pain,  and  mirth  but  pleasing  madness. 

Without  Thee,  Lord,  things  be  not  what  they  be  ; 

Nor  have  they  being,  when  compared  with  Thee. 

"  In  having  all  things,  and  not  Thee,  what  have  I  ? 
Not  having  Thee,  what  have  my  labors  got  ? 
Let  me  enjoy  but  Thee,  what  further  crave  I  ? 
And,  having  Thee  alone,  what  have  I  not? 
I  wish  nor  sea,  nor  land  ;  nor  would  I  be 
Possessed  of  heaven,  heaven  unpossessed  of  Thee." 

Francis  Quarles. 


s 


CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 


O  FRIEND  OF  SOULS  I   HOW  BLEST. 

(  Wt'e  TXiohl  ist  mtr,  o  Freund  der  Seelen.) 


From  the  German  of  Wolfgang  Christoph  Dessler,  1692.  Song  of  Solomon, 
▼iii.  s :  "  Who  is  this  that  cometh  up  from  the  wilderness,  leaning  upon  her  beloved? " 
The  original  (in  Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  301)  is  very  sweet,  but  difficult  to  translate. 
A  closer  version  in  Lyra  Germ.,  I.  50:  "O  Friend  of  souls,  how  well  is  nie  ! "  An- 
other one,  abridged,  in  the  Moravian  H.  B.,  No.  389 :  "  How  blest  am  I,  most  gra- 
cious Saviour  1 " 


r\  FRIEND  of  souls  !  how  blest  the  time 
^-^   When  in  Thy  love  I  rest, 
When  from  my  weariness  I  climb 

E'en  to  Thy  tender  breast ! 
The  night  of  sorrow  endeth  there, 

Thy  rays  outshine  the  sun. 
And  in  Thy  pardon  and  Thy  care 

The  heaven  of  heavens  is  won. 

The  world  may  call  itself  my  foe, 

Or  flatter  and  allure  : 
I  care  not  for  the  world, —  I  go 

To  this  tried  Friend  and  sure. 


492  CHRIST    OUR   PEACE. 

And  when  life's  fiercest  storms  are  sent 

Upon  life's  wildest  sea, 
My  little  bark  is  confident, 

Because  it  holdeth  Thee. 

The  law  may  threaten  endless  deatli 

Upon  the  dreadful  hill ; 
Straightway  from  its  consuming  breath 

My  soul  mounts  higher  still. 
She  hastes  to  Jesus,  wounded,  slain. 

And  finds  in  Him  her  home, 
Whence  she  shall  not  go  forth  again. 

And  where  no  death  can  come. 

I  do  not  fear  the  wilderness 

Where  Thou  hast  been  before  : 
Nay  !  rather  would  I  daily  press 

After  Thee,  near  Thee,  more  ! 
Thou  art  my  strength,  on  Thee  I  lean ; 

My  heart  Thou  makest  sing, 
And  to  Thy  pastures  green  at  length 

Thy  chosen  flock  wilt  bring. 

To  others,  death  seems  dark  and  grim. 

But  not,  O  Lord  !  to  me  : 
I  know  Thou  ne'er  forsakest  him 

Who  puts  his  trust  in  Thee. 
Nay,  rather,  with  a  joyful  heart 

I  welcome  the  release 
From  this  dark  desert,  and  depart 

To  Thy  eternal  peace. 


THOU    HIDDEN    SOURCE.  493 


THOU   HIDDEN  SOURCE. 


"Jesus  All,  and  in  All."    By  Charles  Wesley,  b.  1708,  d.  1788. 


'TpnOU  hidden  Source  of  calm  repose, 

-^      Thou  all-sufficient  Love  Divine, 
My  help  and  refuge  from  my  foes, 

Secure  I  am  while  Thou  art  mine : 
And  lo  !  from  sin  and  grief  and  shame, 
I  hide  me,  Jesus,  in  Thy  name. 

Thy  mighty  name  salvation  is. 
And  keeps  my  happy  soul  above : 

Comfort  it  brings,  and  power  and  peace 
And  joy,  and  everlasting  love  : 

To  me,  with  Thy  dear  name,  are  given 

Pardon  and  holiness  and  heaven. 

Jesus,  my  All  in  All  Thou  art ; 

My  rest  in  toil ;  my  ease  in  pain  ; 
The  med'cine  of  my  broken  heart ; 

In  war,  my  peace  ;  in  loss,  my  gain  ; 
My  smile  beneath  the  tyrant's  frown ; 
In  shame,  my  glory  and  my  crown  ; 


494  CHRIST    OUR   PEACE. 

In  want,  my  plentiful  supply ; 

In  weakness,  my  almighty  power; 
In  bonds,  my  perfect  liberty. 

My  light  in  Satan's  darkest  hour  ; 
In  grief,  my  joy  unspeakable  ; 
My  life  in  death,  my  All  in  All.i 


THE  WORLD   CAN  NEITHER  GIVE 
NOR  TAKE. 


Selina,  Countess  of  Huntingdon  ;  "  the  most  extraordinary  woman  of  her 
age;"  b.  1707,  d.  1791.  This  cento  was  composed  by  her,  1780,  from  two  of  John 
Mason's  Songs  0/ Praise  {16&3).     Sir  R.  Palmer  omits  the  last  two  stanzas. 


'TPHE  world  can  neither  give  nor  take, 

■^    Nor  can  they  comprehend. 
That  peace  of  God,  which  Christ  hath  bought, 
That  peace  which  knows  no  end. 

The  burning  bush  was  not  consumed 

Whilst  God  remained  there  ; 
The  three,  when  Jesus  made  the  fourth. 

Found  fire  as  soft  as  air. 

God's  furnace  doth  in  Zion  stand ; 

But  Zion's  God  sits  by, 
As  the  refiner  views  his  gold 

With  an  observant  eye. 

1  Originally :  "  my  heaven  in  hell." 


COME,    WEARY   SOULS.  495 

His  thoughts  are  high,  His  love  is  wise, 

His  wounds  a  cure  intend ; 
And,  though  He  doth  not  always  smile, 

He  loves  unto  the  end. 

His  love  is  constant  as  the  sun. 
Though  clouds  come  oft  between  ; 

And,  could  my  faith  but  pierce  these  clouds, 
It  might  be  always  seen. 

Yet  I  shall  ever,  ever  sing. 

And  Thou  for  ever  shine  : 
I  have  Thine  own  dear  pledge  for  this ; 

Lord,  Thou  art  ever  mine. 


COME,  WEARY  SOULS. 


Miss  Anne  Steele;  b.  at  Broughton,  1717;  d.  1778.  A  lady  of  delicate  health, 
who  spent  her  life  in  works  of  piety  and  benevolence.  She  published,  under  the  name 
of  "  Theodosia,"  two  volumes  of  poems,  1760 ;  a  third  volume  appeared  after  her 
death.     Republished  in  Boston,  1808,  2  vols.    This  poem  is  based  on  Matt.  xi.  28. 


/^^OME,  weary  souls,  with  sin  distressed, 
^-^  The  Saviour  offers  heavenly  rest ; 
The  kind,  the  gracious  call  obey. 
And  cast  your  gloomy  fears  away. 

Oppressed  with  guilt,  a  painful  load, 
Oh  come  and  spread  your  woes  abroad  I 
Divine  compassion,  mighty  love, 
Will  all  the  painful  load  remove. 


496  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 

Here  mercy's  boundless  ocean  flows, 
To  cleanse  your  guilt  and  heal  your  woes ; 
Pardon  and  life  and  endless  peace, — 
How  rich  the  gift,  how  free  the  grace ! 

Lord,  we  accept  with  thankful  heart 
The  hope  Thy  gracious  words  impart ; 
We  come  with  trembling,  yet  rejoice. 
And  bless  the  kind  inviting  voice. 

Dear  Saviour,  let  Thy  powerful  love 
Confirm  our  faith,  our  fears  remove, 
And  sweetly  influence  every  breast. 
And  guide  us  to  eternal  rest. 


JESUS,   MY  LORD. 

(^Ach  mein  Herr  Jesu,  Dein  Naheset'n.) 


Christian  Gregor,  a  Moravian  bishop,  1778.  One  of  the  sweetest  hymns  from 
the  holy  of  holies  of  the  believer's  personal  communion  with  his  Saviour,  and  very 
characteristic  of  Moravian  piety  in  its  best  form.  Translated  by  Edward  Rey- 
nolds, M.D.,  of  Boston  (from  an  unpublished  translation  of  Schaff's  Germati  H.  B.). 
Contributed.  Other  translations,  by  C.  Winkworth,  "Ah,  dearest  Lord  1  to  feel  thai 
Thou  art  near"  {Lyra  Germ.,  II.  224);  and  by  Dr.  H.  Mills,  "Jesus,  our  Lord, 
when  Thou  art  near  "  {Horce  Germ..,  p.  87). 


TESUS,  my  Lord,  Thy  nearness  does  impart 
^    Sweet  peace  and  gladness  to  the  longing  heart. 
Thy  gracious  smile  infuse  a  joyous  thrill. 
And  soul  and  body  with  sweet  pleasure  fill , 
And  thankfulness. 


U 


JESUS,    MY   LORD.  497 

We  see  not  with  our  eyes  Thy  friendly  face, 
So  full  of  kindness,  love,  and  gentle  grace ; 
But  in  our  hearts  we  know  that  Thou  art  here. 
For  Thou  canst  make  us  feel  Thy  presence  near, 
Although  unseen. 

Whoever  makes  it  life's  chief  aim  and  end 
To  have  his  happiness  on  Thee  depend, 
In  him  a  well  of  joy  for  ever  springs, 
And  all  day  long  his  heart  is  glad,  and  sings : 
Who  is  like  Thee  ? 

To  meet  us  ever  with  a  friendly  face. 
In  mercy,  patience,  and  the  kindest  grace, 
Daily  Thy  rich  forgiveness  to  bestow, 
To  comfort,  heal,  in  peace  to  bid  us  go, — 
Is  Thy  delight. 

Lord,  for  Thy  rich  salvation,  hear  our  prayer, 
And  daily  give  us  an  abounding  share  ; 
And  let  our  souls,  in  all  their  poverty, 
From  deep-felt  love  be  looking  unto  Thee 
Till  life's  last  end. 

In  sorrowing  hours  may  our  o'erflowing  eyes 
For  comfort  look  to  Thy  dear  sacrifice ; 

And,  with  Thy  cross  before  us,  may  we  find 
Thy  genuine  image  stamped  upon  our  mind. 
In  constant  view  I 
32 


498  CHRIST    OUR   PEACE. 

Lord,  at  all  times  mayst  Thou  within  us  find 

A  loving  spirit  and  a  childlike  mind ; 

And  from  Thy  wounds  may  we  receive  the  power, 
Through  all  life's  weal  and  woe,  in  every  hour, 
To  cling  to  Thee. 

Thus,  till  the  heavens  receive  us,  shall  we  be 
Like  children,  finding  all  our  joys  in  Thee ; 
And  though  the  tears  of  sorrow  oft  must  fall. 
Yet,  if  Thou  to  our  hearts  art  All  in  All, 
Sweet  peace  will  come. 

Thy  wounded  hand,  dear  Saviour,  as  a  friend, 

Thou  dost  to  us  in  faithfulness  extend ; 

At  the  sad  sight  our  tears  of  grief  must  flow, 
And  conscious  shame  come  o'er  us  as  we  go. 
With  thankful  praise. 


O  FOR  A  CLOSER  WALK  WITH   GOD! 


William  Cowper,  1779,    Olney  Hymns,  No.  3. 


f~\  FOR  a  closer  walk  with  God, 
^-^    A  calm  and  heavenly  frame  ! 
A  light  to  shine  upon  the  road 
That  leads  me  to  the  Lamb  ! 

Where  is  the  blessedness  I  knew 
When  first  I  saw  the  Lord  ? 

Where  is  the  soul-refreshing  view 
Of  Jesus  and  His  word? 


WHY    SHOULD    I   FEAR?  499 

What  peaceful  hours  I  once  enjoyed  ! 

How  sweet  their  memory  still ! 
But  they  have  left  an  aching  void 

The  world  can  never  fill. 

Return,  O  holy  Dove  !  return, 

Sweet  messenger  of  rest ! 
I  hate  the  sins  that  made  Thee  mourn, 

And  drove  Thee  from  my  breast. 

The  dearest  idol  I  have  known, 

Whate'er  that  idol  be, 
Help  me  to  tear  it  from  Thy  throne, 

And  worship  only  Thee  ! 

So  shall  my  walk  be  close  with  God, 

Calm  and  serene  my  frame  ; 
So  purer  light  shall  mark  the  road 

That  leads  me  to  the  Lamb. 


WHY  SHOULD  I  FEAR? 


Rev.  John  Newton,  1779.    Oltiey  Hymns,  No.  46. 


T^T'HY  should  I  fear  the  darkest  hour, 
^^     Or  tremble  at  the  tempter's  power? 
Jesus  vouchsafes  to  be  my  tower. 


500  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 

Though  hot  the  fight,  why  quit  the  field, 
Why  must  I  either  flee  or  yield, 
Since  Jesus  is  my  mighty  shield? 

When  creature  comforts  fade  and  die. 
Worldlings  may  weep,  but  why  should  I? 
Jesus  still  lives,  and  still  is  nigh. 

Though  all  the  flocks  and  herds  were  dead, 
My  soul  a  famine  need  not  dread, 
For  Jesus  is  my  living  bread. 

I  know  not  what  may  soon  betide, 
Or  how  my  wants  shall  be  supplied ; 
But  Jesus  knows,  and  will  provide. 

Though  sin  would  fill  me  with  distress, 
The  throne  of  grace  I  dare  address, 
For  Jesus  is  my  righteousness. 

Though  faint  my  prayers,  and  cold  my  love, 
My  steadfast  hope  shall  not  remove, 
While  Jesus  intercedes  above. 

Against  me  earth  and  hell  combine, 
But  on  my  side  is  power  divine : 
Jesus  is  all,  and  He  is  mine. 


P 


JESUS,    MY    LORD  !    MY    LIFE  !    MY    ALL  !        5OI 


JESUS,  MY   LORD!    MY   LIFE!    MY   ALL! 


By  Samuel  Medley,  a  Baptist  minister  at  Liverpool,  b.  1738,  d.  1799.  He  was 
converted  in  consequence  of  a  severe  wound  which  he  received,  as  a  midshipman,  in 
a  naval  engagement  with  the  French,  off  Cape  Lagos,  1759. 


TESUS,  my  Lord  !  my  life  !  my  all ! 
^    Prostrate  before  Thy  throne  I  fall ; 
Fain  would  my  soul  look  up,  and  see 
My  hope,  my  heaven,  my  all,  in  Thee. 

Here,  in  this  world  of  sin  and  woe, 
I'm  filled  with  tossings  to  and  fro, 
Burdened  with  sin,  with  fear  oppressed  ; 
And  nothing  here  can  give  me  rest. 

In  vain  from  creatures  help  I  seek  : 
Thou,  only  Thou,  the  word  canst  speak, 
To  heal  my  wounds  and  calm  my  grief,  . 
Or  give  my  mournful  heart  relief. 

Lord,  I  am  vile  and  poor  and  weak. 
Yet  will  I  for  Thy  mercy  seek  : 
I  therefore  cannot  turn  away. 
But  wait  to  hear  what  Thou  wilt  say. 

Oh  speak  and  bid  my  soul  rejoice  ! 
I  long  to  hear  Thy  pardoning  voice  : 
Say,  "Peace,  be  still !  look  up  and  live  ; 
Life,  peace,  and  heaven  are  Mine  to  give." 


.ZD 


502  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 

Without  Thy  peace  and  presence,  Lord, 
Not  all  the  world  can  help  afford  : 
Oh,  do  not  frown  my  soul  away  ! 
Lord,  smile  my  darkness  into  day  ! 

Then,  filled  with  grateful,  holy  love, 
My  soul  in  praise  shall  soar  above. 
And  with  delightful  joy  record 
The  wondrous  goodness  of  my  Lord. 


IF   ONLY  I   HAVE  THEE. 

(  Wenn  ich  Ihn  nur  habe.^ 


From  the  German  of  Novalis  (or  Hardenberg,  of  Moravian  connections, 
author  of  several  glowing  hymns;  d.,  prematurely,  1801),  by  Dr.  George  W.  Be- 
THUNE,  1847,  with  slight  changes  by  the  editor.  (B.  renders  the  first  line :  "  If  I  only 
have  Thee,"  which  disturbs  the  measure.)  Another  translation  (four  stanzas)  in 
Hytnns  from  the  Land  of  Luther,  p.  96  ("  If  only  He  is  mine  "). 


TF  only  I  have  Thee, 
If  only  mine  Thou  art, 
And  to  the  grave 
Thy  power  to  save 
Upholds  my  faithful  heart,  — 
Nought  can  then  my  soul  annoy, 
Lost  in  worship,  love,  and  joy. 

If  only  I  have  Thee, 
I  gladly  all  forsake. 

To  follow  on 

Where  Thou  hast  gone. 


cfl 


IF   ONLY    I    HAVE    THEE.  ,503 

My  pilgrim  staff  I  take ; 
Leaving  other  men  to  stray 
In  the  bright,  broad,  crowded  way. 

If  only  I  have  Thee, 
If  only  Thou  art  near, 
In  sweet  repose 
My  eyes  shall  close. 
Nor  Death's  dark  shadow  fear ; 
And  Thy  heart's  flood  through  my  breast, 
Gently  charm  my  soul  to  rest. 

If  only  I  have  Thee, 
Then  all  the  world'  is  mine  ; 
Like  those  who  gaze 
Upon  the  rays 
That  from  Thy  glory  shine, 
Rapt  in  holy  thought  of  Thee, 
Earth  can  have  no  gloom  for  me. 

Where  only  I  have  Thee, 
There  is  my  fatherland  ; 
For  everywhere 
The  gifts  I  share 
From  Thy  wide-spreading  hand  ; 
And  in  all  my  human  kind, 
Long-lost  brothers  dear  I  find. 


r^  ^ 


504  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 


TREMBLING  BEFORE  THY  THRONE. 


Forgiveness  of  sins,  a  joy  unknown  to  angels.  1822.  The  only  hymn  of  Augus- 
tus Lucas  Hillhouse  (brother  of  James  Abraham  H.,  who  is  commonly  called 
"the  poet  Hillhouse^'y;  b.,  1792,  at  New  Haven,  Conn.  ;  graduated,  in  Yale  College, 
1810;  d.,  near  Paris,  1859.  This  hymn  was  written  in  Paris,  after  1816,  and  first  pub- 
lished in  the  Christian  Spectator,  New  Haven,  April,  1822.  Dr.  L.  Bacon  (in  the 
Kew-Englander,  Aug.  i860)  praises  it  rather  extravagantly,  as  being  "  unsurpassed 
in  the  English  or  any  other  language,  and  as  near  perfection  as  an  uninspired  com- 
position can  be.  The  thought,  the  feeling,  the  imagery,  the  diction,  and  the  versifi- 
cation are  all  exquisite."     It  certainly  has  rare  merit.     Ver.  3  is  the  gem  of  the  hymn. 


npREMBLING  before  Thine  awful  throne, 
-*-     O  Lord  !  in  dust  my  sins  I  own  : 
Justice  and  Mercy  for  my  life 
Contend  !  —  O  smile,  and  heal  the  strife  ! 

The  Saviour  smiles  !    Upon  my  soul 
New  tides  of  hope  tumultuous  roll : 
His  voice  proclaims  my  pardon  found, 
Seraphic  transport  wings  the  sound  ! 

Earth  has  a  joy  unknown  in  heaven  — 
The  new-born  peace  of  sin  forgiven  ! 
Tears  of  such  pure  and  deep  delight, 
Ye  angels  !  never  dimmed  your  sight. 

Ye  saw  of  old  on  chaos  rise 
The  beauteous  pillars  of  the  skies ; 
Ye  know  where  morn  exulting  springs, 
And  evening  folds  her  drooping  wings. 


D 


YES  !  OUR  SHEPHERD  LEADS.        505 

Bright  heralds  of  the  Eternal  Will, 
Abroad  His  errands  ye  fulfil ; 
Or,  throned  in  floods  of  beamy  day, 
Symphonious  in  His  presence  play. 

Loud  is  the  song,  — the  heavenly  plain 
Is  shaken  with  the  choral  strain ; 
And  dying-echoes,  floating  far. 
Draw  music  from  each  chiming  star.^ 

But  I  amid  your  choirs  shall  shine, 
And  all  your  knowledge  shall  be  mine  : 
Ye  on  your  harps  must  lean  to  hear 
A  secret  chord  that  mine  will  bear  ! 


YES!    OUR  SHEPHERD   LEADS. 

{jfa /urwa/ir  !  ujis  fiikri  mit  sanfter  Hand.^ 

Ps.  xxiii. ;  Ezek.  xxiv.  15-  From  the  German  of  Fr.  Adolph  Krummacher, 
D.D.  ;  b.  1767  ;  d.  1845,  as  Reformed  pastor  in  Bremen  ;  author  of  the  Parables,  &c.  ;  a 
man  of  genius  and  lovely  character.  The  translator  in  Hyjniis  from  the  Land  of 
LutJier,  p.  49,  seems  to  confound  him  with  his  son  Friedrich  Wilhelm,  the  cele- 
brated orator  and  court-preacher  at  Potsdam,  who  is  better  known,  in  England  and 
America,  from  his  ^/ya/j  ;  iJ/iyAa  ;  The  Suffering  Saviour ;  King  David;  &c. 


"VT'ES  !  our  Shepherd  leads  with  gentle  hand, 
Through  the  dark  pilgrim-land, 

1  The  Andover  Sabbath  H.  B.,  No.  614,  substitutes,  for  vv.  4-6 
of  the  original,  which  certainly  needs  no  improvement,  the  fol- 
lowing stanza : — 

"Ye  know  where  mom  exulting  springs, 
And  evening  folds  her  drooping  wings : 
Loud  is  your  song;  the  heavenly  plain 
Is  shaken  by  your  choral  strain." 


5o6  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 

His  flock,  so  dearly  bought, 
So  long  and  fondly  sought. 
Hallelujah ! 

When  in  clouds  and  mist  the  weak  ones  stray, 
He  shows  again  the  way, 
And  points  to  them  afar 
A  bright  and  guiding  star. 
Hallelujah ! 

Tenderly  He  watches  from  on  high 
With  an  unwearied  eye  ; 
He  comforts  and  sustains, 
In  all  their  fears  and  pains. 
Hallelujah  I 

Through  the  parched,  dreary  desert  He  will  guide 
To  the  green  fountain-side  ; 
Through  the  dark,  stormy  night, 
To  a  calm  land  of  light. 

Hallelujah ! 

Yes  !  His  "  little  flock"  are  ne'er  forgot ; 
His  mercy  changes  not : 
Our  home  is  safe  above, 
Within  His  arms  of  love. 

Hallelujah  I 


U 


LONG   DID   I   TOIL. 


507 


LONG  DID  I  TOIL. 

'  I  am  His,  and  He  is  mine."    By  Henry  Fravcis  Lyte.     1833. 


T    ONG  did  I  toil,  and  knew  no  earthly  rest ; 
-^^     Far  did  I  rove,  and  found  no  certain  home  ; 
At  last  I  sought  them  in  His  sheltering  breast. 

Who  spreads  His  arms  and  bids  the  weary  come. 
With  Him  I  found  a  home,  a  rest  divine ; 
And  I  since  then  am  His,  and  He  is  mine. 

Yes,  He  is  mine  !  and  naught  of  earthly  things, 
Not  all  the  charms  of  pleasure,  wealth,  or  power. 

The  fame  of  heroes,  or  the  pomp  of  kings, 
Could  tempt  me  to  forego  His  love  an  hour. 

**Go,  worthless  world,"  I  cry,  "with  all  that's  thine; 

Go  I  I  my  Saviour's  am,  and  He  is  mine." 

The  good  I  have  is  from  His  store  supplied ; 

The  ill  is  only  what  He  deems  the  best ; 
With  Him  my  Friend,  I'm  rich  with  nought  beside, 

And  poor  without  Him,  though  of  all  possessed. 
Changes  may  come,  —  I  take,  or  I  resign, — 
Content  while  I  am  His,  while  He  is  mine. 

Whate'er  may  change,  in  Him  no  change  is  seen : 
A  glorious  Sun  that  wanes  not,  nor  declines, 


5o8  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 

Above  the  clouds  and  storms  He  walks  serene, 
And  sweetly  on  His  people's  darkness  shines. 
All  may  depart,  —  I  fret  not,  nor  repine, 
While  I  my  Saviour's  am,  while  He  is  mine. 

He  stays  me  falling ;  lifts  me  up  when  down  ; 

Reclaims  me  wandering  ;  guards  from  every  foe 
Plants  on  my  worthless  brow  the  victor's  crown. 

Which,  in  return,  before  His  feet  I  throw, 
Grieved  that  I  cannot  better  grace  His  shrine. 
Who  deigns  to  own  me  His,  as  He  is  mine. 

While  here,  alas  !  I  know  but  half  His  love, 
But  half  discern  Him,  and  but  half  adore ; 

But,  when  I  meet  Him  in  the  realms  above, 
I  hope  to  love  Him  better,  praise  Him  more, 

And  feel  and  tell,  amid  the  choir  divine, 

How  fully  I  am  His,  and  He  is  mine. 


O   BLESSED   SUN,  WHOSE  SPLENDOR. 

(  O  Jesu,  meine  Sonne.) 


C.  J.  P.  Spitta.     "  Life  and  Contentment  in  Jesus."    From  his  Psalter  und 
Har/e,  1836.     Translated  by  R.  Massie,  i860. 


f~\  BLESSED  Sun,  whose  splendor 
^^     Dispels  the  shades  of  night ; 
O  Jesus,  m}'-  defender, 

My  soul's  supreme  delight,  — 


O    BLESSED    SUN,    WHOSE    SPLENDOR.  509 

All  day  I  hear  resounding 

A  voice  with  silver  tone, 
Which  speaks  of  grace  abounding 

Through  God's  eternal  Son. 

A  deep  and  heavenly  feeling 

Oft  seizes  on  my  breast. 
Ah  !  here  is  balm  for  healing, 

Here  only  is  true  rest ! 
Though  fortune  should  bereave  me 

Of  all  I  love  the  best. 
If  Christ  His  love  still  leave  me, 

I  freely  give  the  rest. 

To  win  this  precious  treasure 

And  matchless  pearl,  I  would 
Give  honor,  wealth,  and  pleasure. 

And  every  earthly  good  ; 
I  gladly  would  surrender 

The  dearest  thing  which  might 
Obscure  my  Sun's  bright  splendor, 

And  rob  me  of  His  light. 

I  know  no  life  divided, 

O  Lord  of  life  !  from  Thee ; 
Tn  Thee  is  life  provided 

For  all  mankind  and  me. 
I  know  no  death,  O  Jesus 

Because  I  live  in  Thee : 
Thy  death  it  is  which  frees  us 

From  death  eternally. 


U 


5IO  CHRIST    OUR   PEACE. 

I  fear  no  tribulation, 

Since,  whatsoe'er  it  be. 
It  makes  no  separation 

Between  my  Lord  and  me. 
If  Thou,  my  God  and  teacher, 

Vouchsafe  to  be  my  own, 
Though  poor,  I  shall  be  richer 

Than  monarch  on  his  throne. 

If,  while  on  earth  I  wander, 

My  heart  is  light  and  blest. 
Ah  !  what  shall  I  be  yonder 

In  perfect  peace  and  rest? 
O  blessed  thought  in  dying  ! 

We  go  to  meet  the  Lord, 
"Where  there  shall  be  no  sighing, 

A  kingdom  our  reward. 

Lord,  with  this  truth  impress  me. 

And  write  it  on  my  heart. 
To  comfort,  cheer,  and  bless  me, 

That  Thou  my  Saviour  art ; 
Without  Thy  love  to  guide  me, 

I  should  be  wholly  lost ; 
The  floods  would  quickly  hide  me, 

On  life's  wide  ocean  tost. 

Thy  love  it  was  which  sought  me. 
Thyself  unsought  by  me, 

And  to  the  haven  brought  me 
Where  I  would  gladly  be. 


NOW    I    HAVE    FOUND    A    FRIEND.  5II 

The  things  which  once  distrest  me, 

My  heart  no  longer  move, 
Since  this  sweet  truth  imprest  me,  — 

That  I  possess  Thy  love. 


NOW  I   HAVE  FOUND  A  FRIEND. 


Henry  Hope  ;  bom  at  Belfast ;  bookbinder  in  Dublin.  The  following  hymn  was 
printed  by  Mr.  Hope,  in  1852,  for  private  circulation.  Like  other  popular  hymns,  it 
has  been  unscrupulously  and  needlessly  altered  by  editors  of  hymn-books  and  popular 
collections.  It  is  here  printed  from  a  copy  supplied  by  the  author  to  Rogers's  Lyra 
Brit.,  1867. 


TVTOW  I  have  found  a  friend, 
•^  ^    Jesus  is  mine ; 
His  love  shall  never  end, 

Jesus  is  mine. 
Though  earthly  joys  decrease. 
Though  earthly  friendships  cease. 
Now  I  have  lasting  peace, 

Jesus  is  mine. 

Though  I  grow  poor  and  old, 

Jesus  is  mine ; 
Though  I  grow  faint  and  cold, 

Jesus  is  mine. 
He  shall  my  wants  supply. 
His  precious  blood  is  nigh. 
Nought  can  my  hope  destroy, 

Jesus  is  mine. 


D 


vj 


n 


512  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 

When  death  is  sent  to  me, 

Jesus  is  mine ; 
"Welcome  eternity, 

Jesus  is  mine. 
He  my  redemption  is, 
Wisdom  and  righteousness. 
Life,  light,  and  holiness, 

Jesus  is  mine. 

When  earth  shall  pass  away, 

Jesus  is  mine. 
In  the  great  judgment-day, 

Jesus  is  mine. 
Oh  !  what  a  glorious  thing, 
Then  to  behold  my  King,  — 
On  tuneful  harp  to  sing, 

Jesus  is  mine. 

Father,  Thy  name  I  bless, 

Jesus  is  mine ; 
Thine  was  the  sovereign  grace, 

Praise  shall  be  Thine. 
Spirit  of  holiness, 
Sealing  the  Father's  grace. 
Thou  mad'st  my  soul  embrace 

Jesus  as  mine. 


" 

s                                                                                          <• 

»^ 

( 

) 

c 

THROUGH   THE    LOVE    OF   GOD.                  513 

THROUGH  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD. 

l> 

Mrs.  Mary  Peters;  d.  at  Clifton,  England,  1856  (Rogers's  Lyra  Brit.,  p.  461). 
Sir  R.  Palmer  (p.  437)  attributes  this  hymn  to  Mary  Bowly  (her  maiden  name),  1847. 

'  1  'HROUGH  the  love  of  God  our  Saviour, 
^    All  will  be  well ; 

Free  and  changeless  is  His  favor, 

All,  all  is  well. 

Precious  is  the  blood  that  healed  us  ; 

Perfect  is  the  grace  that  sealed  us  ; 

Strong  the  hand  stretched  forth  to  shield  us : 

All  must  be  well ! 

Though  we  pass  through  tribulation, 
All  will  be  well ; 

Ours  is  such  a  full  salvation, 

All,  all  is  well ! 

Happy  still,  to  God  confiding; 
Fruitful,  if  in  Christ  abiding ; 

Holy  through  the  Spirit's  guiding,  — 
All  must  be  well ! 

We  expect  a  bright  to-morrow, 
All  will  be  well ; 

a 

Faith  can  sing,  through  days  of  sorrow, 
All,  all  is  well ! 

33 

% 

( 

) 

^ 

— 0                                                                                     c   ■ 

M 

514  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 

On  our  Father's  love  relying, 
Jesus  every  need  supplying, 
Or  in  living  or  in  dying, 
All  must  be  well  I 


REST,  WEARY  SOUL  I 


Anonymous.     From  Thoughts  for  Thoughtful  Hours,  Edin.  1859,  from  which  it 
passed  into  Sir  R.  Palmer's  Book  of  Praise,  No.  CCCCIX,  p.  438. 


"O  EST,  weary  soul ! 

•^^   The  penalty  is  borne,  the  ransom  paid, 
For  all  thy  sins  full  satisfaction  made ; 
Strive  not  to  do  thyself  what  Christ  has  done  ; 
Claim  the  free  gift,  and  make  the  joy  thine  own  ; 
No  more  by  pangs  of  guilt  and  fear  distrest, 
Rest,  sweetly  rest  I 

Rest,  weary  heart. 
From  all  thy  silent  griefs  and  secret  pain, 
Thy  profitless  regrets  and  longings  vain  ; 
Wisdom  and  love  have  ordered  all  the  past. 
All  shall  be  blessedness  and  light  at  last ; 
Cast  off  the  cares  that  have  so  long  opprest ; 

Rest,  sweetly  rest ! 

Rest,  weary  head ! 
Lie  down  to  slumber  in  the  peaceful  tomb ; 
Light  from  above  has  broken  through  its  gloom  : 


I've  found  a  joy  in  sorrow.  515 

Here,  in  the  place  where  once  thy  Saviour  lay, 
Where  He  shall  wake  thee  on  a  future  day, 
Like  a  tired  child  upon  its  mother's  breast. 
Rest,  sweetly  rest ! 

Rest,  spirit  free  ! 
In  the  green  pastures  of  the  heavenly  shore, 
Where  sin  and  sorrow  can  approach  no  more. 
With  all  the  flock  by  the  Good  Shepherd  fed, 
Beside  the  streams  of  life  eternal  led, 
For  ever  with  thy  God  and  Saviour  blest. 

Rest,  sweetly  rest  I 


I'VE  FOUND  A  JOY  IN  SORROW. 


"  Pilgrim  Discoveries."  By  Mrs.  Jane  Crewdson  («<?*  Fox) ;  b.  1809 ;  d.,  near 
Manchester,  England,  1863.  She  wrote,  during  a  protracted  period  of  illness,  four 
volumes  of  genuine  poetry.  "  Many  felt  that  her  sick-room  was  the  highest  place  to 
which  they  could  resort  for  refreshment  of  spirit,  and  even  for  mental  recreation." 
From  Charles  Rogers's  Lyra  Brit.,  p.  649. 


T'VE  found  a  joy  in  sorrow, 

A  secret  balm  for  pain, 
A  beautiful  to-morrow 

Of  sunshine  after  rain. 
I've  found  a  branch  of  healing 

Near  every  bitter  spring  ; 
A  whispered  promise  stealing 

O'er  every  broken  string. 


n 


516  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 

I've  found  a  glad  hosanna 

For  every  woe  and  wail, 
A  handful  of  sweet  manna 

When  grapes  from  Eshcol  fail. 
I've  found  a  Rock  of  Ages 

When  desert  wells  were  dry ; 
And,  after  weary  stages, 

I've  found  an  Elim  nigh,  — 

An  Elim,  with  its  coolness. 

Its  fountains,  and  its  shade  ! 
A  blessing  in  its  fulness, 

When  buds  of  promise  fade  ! 
O'er  tears  of  soft  contrition, 

I've  seen  a  rainbow  light ; 
A  glory  and  fruition. 

So  near !  —  yet  out  of  sight. 

My  Saviour  I  Thee  possessing, 

I  have  the  joy,  the  balm, 
The  healing  and  the  blessing. 

The  sunshine  and  the  psalm  ; 
The  promise  for  the  fearful, 

The  Elim  for  the  faint. 
The  rainbow  for  the  tearful. 

The  glory  for  the  saint. 


LET   NOT   YOUR    HEART    BE    FAINT.  517 


LET  NOT  YOUR  HEART   BE  FAINT. 


Rev.  John  A.  Latrobe,  a  native  of  London.  1S63.  His  father  was  Secretary 
of  the  Moravian  Church  Missions.  He  published  several  poetic  volumes.  See 
Rogers,  L.  B.,  p.  367.  

T    ET  not  your  heart  be  faint : 
-*— '   My  peace  I  give  to  you,  — 
Such  peace  as  reason  never  planned, 
As  worldlings  never  knew. 

'Tis  not  the  noiseless  calm  ' 

That  bodes  a  tempest  nigh, 
Or  lures  the  heedless  mariner 
Where  rocks  and  quicksands  lie. 

'Tis  not  fallen  nature's  sleep, 
The  stupor  of  the  soul 
That  knows  not  God,  nor  owns  His  hand. 
Though  wide  His  thunders  roll. 

'Tis  not  the  sleep  of  death. 
Low  in  the  darksome  grave, 
Where  the  worm  spreads  its  couch,  and  feeds, — 
No  hand  put  forth  to  save. 

It  speaks  a  ransomed  world, 
A  Father  reconciled, 
A  sinner  to  a  saint  transformed, 
A  rebel  to  a  child. 


fl 


518  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 

It  tells  of  joys  to  come  ; 
It  soothes  the  troubled  breast ; 
It  shines,  a  star  amid  the  storm,  — 
The  harbinger  of  rest. 

Then  murmur  not,  nor  mourn, 
My  people  faint  and  few  : 
Though  earth  to  its  foundation  shake, 
My  peace  I  leave  with  you. 


REST   OF  THE  WEARY. 


By  the  Rev.  John  S.  B.  Monsell,  LL.D.  ;  b.  at  St.  Columbs,  Derry,  iSii;  a 
gifted  and  fertile  living  hymn-writer,  and  author  of  several  volumes  of  sacred  lyrics. 
From  his  Hymns  0/  Love  and  Praise,  Lond.  1863,  p.  128.  On  Cant.  v.  6  ("  This  is 
my  Beloved,  and  this  is  tny  Friend  ")>  and  Isa.  xliii.  3. 


"P  EST  of  the  weary, 

Joy  of  the  sad, 
Hope  of  the  dreary, 

Light  of  the  glad ; 
Home  of  the  stranger. 

Strength  to  the  end. 
Refuge  from  danger. 

Saviour  and  Friend  I 

Pillow  where,  lying. 
Love  rests  its  head ; 

Peace  of  the  dying, 
Life  of  the  dead ; 


r^ 

O 

1* 

^ 

c 

) 

( 

JESUS,    MY    LORD,    'tIS    SWEET    TO    REST.      519 

Path  of  the  lowly. 

Prize  at  the  end, 
Breath  of  the  holy. 

Saviour  and  Friend ! 

When  my  feet  stumble, 

I'll  to  Thee  cry  ; 
Crown  of  the  humble, 

Cross  of  the  high. 
When  my  steps  wander. 

Over  me  bend. 
Truer  and  fonder, 

Saviour  and  Friend  1 

Ever  confessing 

Thee,  I  will  raise 
Unto  Thee  blessing, 

Glory,  and  praise ; 
All  my  endeavor. 

World  without  end. 
Thine  to  be  ever, 

Saviour  and  Friend ! 

J 

JESUS,  MY  LORD,  'TIS  SWEET  TO  REST. 

From  Savile's  Lyra  Sacra  (3d  ed.,  Lond.  1865),  where  it  bears  the  initials  "  H.  B." 

TESUS,  my  Lord,  'tis  sweet  to  rest 
^    Upon  Thy  tender,  loving  breast, 

Where  deep  compassions  ever  roll 

C 

Towards  my  helpless,  weary  soul. 

) 

< 

) 

fit 

C 

Vd 

kri 

520  CHRIST    OUR   PEACE. 

Thy  love,  my  Saviour,  dries  my  tears, 
Expels  my  griefs,  and  calms  my  fears ; 
Sheds  light  and  gladness  o'er  my  heart. 
And  bids  each  anxious  thought  depart. 

Blest  foretaste  this  of  joys  to  come 
In  Thy  eternal,  heavenly  home  ; 
Where  I  shall  see  Thy  smiling  face. 
And  know  Thy  rich,  unfathomed  grace. 

That  grace  sustains  my  spirit  now, 
Though  still  a  pilgrim  here  below ; 
That  grace  suffices,  comforts,  guides, 
Upholds,  defends,  preserves,  provides. 

Yes,  Thou  art  with  me,  O  my  God ! 
To  bear  me  on  to  Thy  abode ; 
Where  I  shall  never  cease  to  prove 
Thy  deep,  divine,  unfailing  love. 

Help  me  to  praise  Thee  day  by  day. 
Till  earth's  dark  scenes  are  passed  away, 
Till  in  Thine  own  unclouded  light 
Thy  glory  satisfies  my  sight. 


tJ 


WHEN   ACROSS    THE    HEART.  52 1 


WHEN  ACROSS   THE   HEART. 


From  the  Canterbury  Hymnal,  1863. 


"XT  7HEN  across  the  heart  deep  waves  of  sorrow 

^  '     Break,  as  on  a  dry  and  barren  shore ; 

When  hope  glistens  with  no  bright  to-morrow, 

And  the  storm  seems  sweeping  evermore ; 

When  the  cup  of  every  earthly  gladness 
Bears  no  taste  of  the  life-rgiving  stream ; 

And  high  hopes,  as  though  to  mock  our  sadness, 
Fade  and  die  as  in  some  fitful  dream,  — 

Who  shall  hush  the  weary  spirit's  chiding? 

Who  the  aching  void  within  shall  fill  ? 
Who  shall  whisper  of  a  peace  abiding, 

And  each  surging  billow  calmly  still  ? 

Only  He  whose  wounded  heart  was  broken 
With  the  bitter  cross  and  thorny  crown ; 

Whose  dear  love  glad  words  of  joy  had  spoken ; 
Who  His  life  for  us  laid  meekly  down. 

Blessed  Healer  1  all  our  burdens  lighten  ; 

Give  us  peace,  Thine  own  sweet  peace,  we  pray; 
Keep  us  near  Thee  till  the  morn  shall  brighten, 

And  all  mists  and  shadows  flee  away. 


522  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 


SWEET  WAS  THE  HOUR,   O   LORD 


The  well  of  Sychar.  By  Sir  Edward  Denny,  Bart.  From  his  Hymns  and 
Poems,  published  in  London,  by  U.  H.  Broom,  8,  Athol  Place  (without  date,  prob- 
ably 1863).     Sir  E.  D.  is  a  mUlenarian,  and  writer  on  prophetic  themes. 


OWEET  was  the  hour,  O  Lord  !  to  Thee, 
*^    At  Sy char's  lonely  well, 
When  a  poor  outcast  heard  Thee  there 
Thy  great  salvation  tell. 

Thither  she  came  ;  but  oh  !  her  heart. 

All  filled  with  earthly  care, 
Dreamed  not  of  Thee,  nor  thought  to  find 

The  Hope  of  Israel  there. 

Lord  !  'twas  Thy  power,  unseen,  that  drew 

The  stray  one  to  that  place, 
In  solitude  to  learn  of  Thee 

The  secrets  of  Thy  grace. 

There  Jacob's  erring  daughter  found 
Those  streams,  unknown  before, 

The  water-brooks  of  life,  that  make 
The  weary  thirst  no  more. 

And,  Lord,  to  us,  as  vile  as  she, 

Thy  gracious  lips  have  told 
That  mystery  of  love,  revealed 

At  Jacob's  well  of  old. 


I") 


WHEN    WINDS    ARE    RAGING.  523 

In  spirit,  Lord,  we've  sat  with  Thee 

Beside  the  springing  well 
Of  life  and  peace,  and  heard  Thee  there 

Its  healing  virtues  tell. 

Dead  to  the  world,  we  dream  no  more 

Of  earthly  pleasures  now ; 
Our  deep,  divine,  unfailing  spring 

Of  grace  and  glory  Thou  ! 

No  hope  of  rest  in  aught  beside, 

No  beauty,  Lord,  we  see ; 
And,  like  Samaria's  daughter,  seek  ^ 

And  find  our  all  in  Thee. 


WHEN  WINDS  ARE  RAGING. 


"The  Secret."    By  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe;  b.  at  Litchfield,  Conn., 
1812 ;  residing  at  Hartford.    From  her  Religious  Poetns,  Boston,  1867,  p.  32. 


"\T  7HEN  winds  are  raging  o'er  the  upper  ocean, 

'  '    And  billows  wild  contend  with  angry  roar, 
'Tis  said,  far  down  beneath  the  wild  commotion. 
That  peaceful  stillness  reigneth  evermore. 

Far,  far  beneath,  the  noise  of  tempest  dieth, 
And  silver  waves  chime  ever  peacefully ; 

And  no  rude  storm,  how  fierce  soe'er  it  flieth, 
Disturbs  the  sabbath  of  that  deeper  sea. 


524  CHRIST    OUR   PEACE. 

So  to  the  heart  that  knows  Thy  love,  O  Purest  I 
There  is  a  temple  sacred  evermore, 

And  all  the  babble  of  life's  angry  voices 
Dies  in  hushed  stillness  at  its  sacred  door. 

Far,  far  away,  the  roar  of  passion  dieth, 

And  loving  thoughts  rise  calm  and  peacefully ; 

And  no  rude  storm,  how  fierce  soe'er  it  flieth, 
Disturbs  that  deeper  rest,  O  Lord  !  in  Thee. 

O  Rest  of  rests  I  O  Peace  serene,  eternal ! 

Thou  ever  livest,  and  Thou  changest  never ; 
And  in  the  secret  of  Thy  presence  dwelleth 

Fulness  of  joy,  for  ever  and  for  ever. 


ALONE  WITH  THEE! 


"  Alone  with  Christ."  "  I  will  come  to  you."  —  John  xiv.  18.  By  Ray  Palmer, 
D.D.  Written  1867,  and  first  published  in  his  Hymns  of  my  Holy  Hours.  New  Vork, 
1867. 


A  LONE  with  Thee  !  alone  with  Thee  ! 
•^  ^    O  Friend  divine  ! 
Thou  Friend  of  friends,  to  me  most  dear, 
Though  all  unseen,  I  feel  Thee  near ; 
And,  with  the  love  that  knows  no  fear, 
I  call  Thee  mine. 


ALONE    WITH    THEE  ! 

Alone  with  Thee  !  alone  with  Thee  ! 

Now  through  my  breast 
There  steals  a  breath  like  breath  of  balm 
That  healing  brings  and  holy  calm, 
That  soothes  like  chanted  song  or  psalm, 

And  makes  me  blest. 

Alone  with  Thee  !  alone  with  Thee  I 

Thy  grace  more  sweet 
Than  music  in  the  twilight  still, 
Than  airs  that  groves  of  spices  fill, 
More  fresh  than  dews  on  Hermon's  hill. 

My  soul  doth  greet. 

Alone  with  Thee  I  alone  with  Thee  ! 

In  Thy  pure  light 
The  splendid  pomps  and  shows  of  time, 
The  tempting  steeps  that  pride  would  climb, 
The  peaks  where  glory  rests  sublime, 

Pale  on  my  sight. 

Alone  with  Thee  !  alone  with  Thee  ! 

My  softened  heart 
Floats  on  the  flood  of  love  divine, 
Feels  all  its  wishes  drowned  in  Thine, 
Content  that  every  good  is  mine 

Thou  canst  impart. 

Alone  with  Thee  !  alone  with  Thee  ! 
I  want  no  more 


.  n 

) 

525 

» 

r 


526  CHRIST    OUR    PEACE. 

To  make  my  earthly  bliss  complete, 
Than  oft  my  Lord  unseen  to  meet ; 
For  sight  I  wait  till  tread  my  feet 
Yon  glistering  shore. 

Alone  with  Thee  I  alone  with  Thee  ! 

There  not  alone, 
But  with  all  saints,  the  mighty  throng, 
My  soul  unfettered,  pure,  and  strong. 
Her  high  communings  shall  prolong 

Before  Thy  throne. 


JESUS  I   THE  RAYS   DIVINE. 


"My  Heavenly  Friend."     By  Mrs.   Grace  Webster  Hinsdale,  Brooklyn, 
July,  1868.     Contributed. 

TESUS  !  the  rays  divine, 
^    Which  from  Thy  presence  shine, 
Cast  light  o'er  depths  profound, 
Which  in  Thy  word  are  found, 
And  lead  me  on  1 

The  love  within  Thine  eye 
Oft  checks  the  rising  sigh ; 
The  touch  of  Thy  dear  hand 
Answers  my  heart's  demand. 
And  comforts  me  I 

Yes,  Lord,  in  hours  of  gloom. 
When  shadows  fill  my  room. 


i 


n 


fi 


ABIDE    WITH    ME  ! 

When  pain  breathes  forth  its  groans, 
And  grief  its  sighs  and  moans, 
Then  Thou  art  near  I 

Oh  !  will  it  always  be 
That  Thou  wilt  comfort  me? 
When  friends  are  far  away, 
Wilt  Thou,  my  Saviour,  stay, 
And  soothe  my  pain? 

Jesus,  Thou  art  my  life  ! 
No  more  I  dread  the  strife, — 
The  rays  of  light  divine, 
Which  from  Thy  presence  shine, 
Fall  o'er  my  heart ! 


527 


ABIDE  WITH 


ME !  ^^-^C  .i^^'^-^ 

Rev.  Henry  Francis  Lyte;  b.  1793;  graduated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin; 
d.  at  Nice,  1847;  author  of  Religious  Poems;  Tales  on  the  Lord'^s  Prayer;  The 
Spirit  of  the  Psalms  ;  &c.  This  beautiful  hymn  has  passed  into  several  recent  Angli- 
can hymn-books;  e.g.,  Hymns  Aftcient  and  Modern,  and  The  People's  Hymnal, 
but  only  five  stanzas.    I  have  borrowed  the  text  from  Sir  R.  Palmer,  No.  CCCCV. 


/-- 


A  BIDE  with  me  !  fast  falls  the  even-tide  : 
■^^^^   The  darkness  deepens  ;  Lord,  with  me  abide  ! 
When  other  helpers  fail,  and  comforts  flee. 
Help  of  the  helpless,  O  abide  with  me  ! 

Swift  to  its  close  ebbs  out  life's  little  day  ; 
Earth's  joys  grow  dim,  its  glories  pass  away  ; 
Change  and  decay  in  all  around  I  see  ; 
O  Thou  who  changest  not,  abide  with  me  ! 


528  CHRIST    OUR   PEACE. 

Not  a  brief  glance  I  beg,  a  passing  word ; 
But,  as  Thou  dwell'st  with  Thy  disciples,  Lord, 
Familiar,  condescending,  patient,  free,  — 
Come,  not  to  sojourn,  but  abide,  with  me ! 

Come  not  in  terrors,  as  the  King  of  kings ; 
But  kind  and  good,  with  healing  in  Thy  wings  ; 
Tears  for  all  woes,  a  heart  for  every  plea  ; 
Come,  Friend  of  sinners,  and  thus  'bide  with  me  I 

Thou  on  my  head,  in  early  youth,  didst  smile  ; 
And,  though  rebellious  and  perverse  meanwhile, 
Thou  hast  not  left  me,  oft  as  I  left  Thee  : 
On  to  the  close,  O  Lord,  abide  with  me ! 

I  need  Thy  presence  every  passing  hour ; 
What  but  Thy  grace  can  foil  the  Tempter's  power? 
Who  like  Thyself  my  guide  and  stay  can  be  ? 
Through  cloud  and  sunshine,  Lord,  abide  with  me  I 

I  fear  no  foe,  with  Thee  at  hand  to  bless ; 
Ills  have  no  weight,  and  tears  no  bitterness  ; 
Where  is  Death's  sting?  where  Grave,  thy  victory? 
I  triumph  still,  if  Thou  abide  with  me  ! 

I  Hold,  then.  Thy  cross  before  my  closing  eyes  ! 
I  Shine  through  the  gloom,  and  point  me  to  the  skies  ! 
;  Heaven's  morning  breaks,  and  earth's  vain  shadows 
flee ; 
In  life,  in  death,  O  Lord,  abide  with  me ! 


n 


FAITH   IN   CHRIST. 


"Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled:  ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  Me." — 
John  xiv.  i. 

"  The  life  which  I  now  live  in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  who 
loved  me  and  gave  Himself  for  me."  —  Gal.  ii.  20. 

"  Looking  unto  Jesus,  the  author  and  finisher  of  our  faith."  —  Heb.  xii.  2. 

"Lord,  I  believe;  help  Thou  mine  unbelief."  — Mark  ix.  24. 

A  LMIGHTY  GOD,  who  hast  revealed  Thyself,  in  Thy  Son 
■^  ^  Jesus  Christ,  as  a  God  of  infinite  love  and  wisdom,  and 
who  dost  offer  us  in  Him  complete  salvation  and  everlasting  bliss  : 
work  in  us,  by  Thy  Holy  Spirit,  a  hearty,  constant,  and  abiding 
faith  in  Thee  and  in  Thy  Son,  that  we  may  never  be  ashamed  to 
confess  Him  before  men,  and,  fbllowing  His  holy  example,  may 
overcome  the  world,  abound  in  fruits  of  righteousness,  and,  hav- 
ing fought  the  good  fight  of  faith,  carry  away  at  last  the  crown 
of  life;  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  to  whom,  with  Thee  and 
the  Holy  Spirit,  be  honor  and  glory,  world  without  end.     Amen. 

"  Eternal  God  of  earth  and  air  I 
Unseen,  yet  seen  in  all  around, 
Remote,  but  dwelling  everywhere. 
Though  silent,  heard  in  every  sound,  — 

If  e'er  Thine  ear  in  mercy  bent 

When  wretched  mortals  cried  to  Thee ; 
And  if,  indeed.  Thy  Son  was  sent 
To  save  lost  sinners  such  as  me ! 

Then  hear  me  now,  while,  kneeling  here, 
I  lift  to  Thee  my  heart  and  eye, 
And  all  my  soul  ascends  in  prayer, 

Oh,  GIVK  MB,  GIVB  MB  FAITH  I  I  Cry. 

Without  some  glimmering  in  my  heart, 
I  could  not  raise  this  fervent  prayer: 
But,  oh  I  a  stronger  light  impart, 
And  in  Thy  mercy  fix  it  there." 

34 


5 


D 


FAITH    IN    CHRIST. 


WHEN  SINS  AND  FEARS. 


Miss  Anne  Stbblb,  died  1778.  John  xir.  19.  The  poems  of  this  pious  and 
deservedly  popular  authoress  were  first  published  in  England,  1760,  in  2  vols. ;  with  an 
additional  volume  after  her  death,  1780;  and  republished  in  Boston,  1808  (by  Munroe, 
Francis,  &  Parker,  4  Comhill),  in  2  V0I3.    The  text  is  firom  the  Boston  ed.,  I.  p.  137. 


"\"\  JHEN  sins  and  fears  prevailing  rise, 
'  '    And  fainting  hope  almost  expires, 

Jesus,  to  Thee  I  lift  mine  eyes. 
To  Thee  I  breathe  my  soul's  desires. 

Art  Thou  not  mine,  my  dearest  Lord? 

And  can  my  hope,  my  comfort  die, 
Fixed  on  Thy  everlasting  word. 

That  word  which  built  the  earth  and  sky  ? 

If  my  immortal  Saviour  lives. 

Then  my  immortal  life  is  sure  ; 
This  word  a  firm  foundation  gives, 

Here  let  me  build,  and  rest  secure. 

Here  let  my  faith  unshaken  dwell ; 

Immovable  the  promise  stands  ; 
Not  all  the  powers  of  earth  or  hell 

Can  e'er  dissolve  the  sacred  bands. 


532  FAITH   IN    CHRIST. 

Here,  O  my  soul !  thy  trust  repose  ; 

Since  Jesus  is  for  ever  mine, 
Not  death  itself,  that  last  of  foes, 

Shall  break  a  union  so  divine. 


SEE  A  POOR   SINNER,  DEAREST   LORD. 


Samuel  Medley,  a  Baptist  minister  at  Liverpool,  d.  1799. 


OEE  a  poor  sinner,  dearest  Lord, 

*^  Whose  soul,  encouraged  by  Thy  word, 

At  mercy's  footstool  would  remain, 

And  then  would  look,  "and  look  again." 

How  oft,  deceived  by  self  and  pride, 
Has  my  poor  heart  been  turned  aside ; 
And,  Jonah-like,  has  fled  from  Thee, 
Till  Thou  hast  looked  again  on  me  ! 

Ah  !  bring  a  wretched  wanderer  home, 
And  to  Thy  footstool  let  me  come, 
And  tell  Thee  all  my  grief  and  pain, 
And  wait  and  look,  and  look  again. 

Do  fears  and  doubts  thy  soul  annoy. 
Do  thundering  tempests  drown  thy  joy  ? 
And  canst  thou  not  one  smile  obtain? 
Yet  wait  and  look,  and  look  again. 


AMID    LIFES    WILD    COMMOTION.  533 

Take  courage  then,  my  trembling  soul ; 
One  look  from  Christ  will  make  thee  whole : 
Trust  thou  in  Him,  'tis  not  in  vain. 
But  wait  and  look,  and  look  again. 

Look  to  the  Lord,  His  word.  His  throne ; 
Look  to  His  grace,  and  not  your  own  : 
There  wait  and  look,  and  look  again ; 
You  shall  not  wait  nor  look  in  vain. 

Ere  long  that  happy  day  will  come, 
When  I  shall  reach  my  blissful  home ; 
And  when  to  glory  I  attain, 
O  then  I'll  look,  and  look  again. 


AMID   LIFE'S   WILD   COMMOTION. 

(^Aus  irdischem  Getumtnel.) 


From  the  German  of  Carl  Julius  Asschenfeld  (b.  at  Kiel,  Holstein,  1792). 
1819.    John  xiv.  6,    (Schaff,  No.  102.)    Translator  unknown. 


A  MID  life's  wild  commotion, 

^   Where  nought  the  heart  can  cheer, 
Who  points  beyond  its  ocean 

To  heaven's  brighter  sphere? 
Our  feeble  footsteps  guiding. 

When  from  the  path  we  stray, 
Who  leads  to  bliss  abiding? 

Christ  is  our  only  Way. 


:z) 


n 


b 

534  FAITH   IN   CHRIST. 

When  doubts  and  fears  distress  us, 

And  all  around  is  gloom, 
And  shame  and  fear  oppress  us, 

Who  can  our  souls  illume? 
Heaven's  rays  are  round  us  gleaming, 

And  making  all  things  bright, 
The  sun  of  Truth  is  beaming 

In  glory  on  our  sight. 

Who  fills  our  hearts  with  gladness 

That  none  can  take  away  ? 
Who  shows  us,  'midst  our  sadness. 

The  distant  realms  of  day? 
'Mid  fears  of  death  assailing, 

Who  stills  the  heart's  wild  strife  ? 
'Tis  Christ !  our  Friend  unfailing. 

The  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life. 


I  KNOW  IN  WHOM  I  PUT  MY  TRUST. 

{Ich  -wetss,  an  wen  ich  glaube.') 


Ernst  MoRiTZ  Arndt.  1819.  (Schaff's  C  ^.  5.,  No.  295.)  Translated  by 
C.  WiNKWORTH.  The  author  (t  i860)  was  one  of  the  noblest  German  patriots,  and  at 
the  same  time  a  sincere,  childlike  Christian.  His  "  Was  ist  des  Deutschen  Vaterlaud," 
is  one  of  the  most  popular  German  songs. 


T  KNOW  in  whom  I  put  my  trust, 
■*■    I  know  what  standeth  fast. 
When  all  things  here  dissolve  like  dust, 
Or  smoke  before  the  blast : 


I   KNOW   IN  WHOM   I   PUT    MY   TRUST.  $^$ 

I  know  what  still  endures,  howe'er 

All  else  may  quake  and  fall, 
When  lies  the  prudent  men  ensnare, 

And  dreams  the  wise  inthrall. 

It  is  the  Dayspring  from  on  high, 

The  adamantine  Rock, 
Whence  never  storm  can  make  me  fly, 

That  fears  no  earthquake's  shock ; 
My  Jesus  Christ,  my  sure  Defence, 

My  Saviour,  and  my  Light, 
That  shines  within,  and  scatters  thence 

Dark  phantoms  of  the  night ; 

Who  once  was  borne,  betrayed,  and  slain, 

At  evening  to  the  grave ; 
Whom  God  awoke,  who  rose  again, 

A  Conqueror  strong  to  save  ; 
Who  pardons  all  my  sin,  who  sends 

His  Spirit  pure  and  mild ; 
Whose  grace  my  every  step  befriends. 

Who  ne'er  forgets  His  child ! 

Therefore  I  know  in  whom  I  trust, 

I  know  what  standeth  fast. 
When  all  things  formed  of  earthly  dust 

Are  whirling  in  the  blast : 
The  terrors  of  the  final  foe 

Can  rob  me  not  of  this ; 
And  this  shall  crown  me  once,  I  know. 

With  never-fading  bliss. 


:z) 


536  FAITH   IN    CHRIST. 


MY  FAITH  LOOKS   UP  TO  THEE. 


The  Rev.  Ray  Palmer,  D.D.  ;  b.  1808,  in  Rhode  Island ;  now  of  New  York. 
This  is  his  most  popular  hymn,  written  (as  the  author  informs  me)  1830,  and  first 
published  1833  ;  translated  into  Arabic,  and  sung  in  many  missionary  stations ;  one  of 
the  very  few  American  hymns  that  have  been  naturalized  in  England.  The  text  is 
taken  from  his  Hytnns  and  Sacred  Pieces,  New  York,  1865. 


"ly /TY  faith  looks  up  to  Thee, 
-*■'-*-  Thou  Lamb  of  Calvary, 

Saviour  divine ! 
Now  hear  me  while  I  pray. 
Take  all  my  guilt  away, 
O  let  me  from  this  day 

Be  wholly  Thine. 

May  Thy  rich  grace  impart 
Strength  to  my  fainting  heart. 

My  zeal  inspire ; 
As  Thou  hast  died  for  me, 
O  may  my  love  to  Thee, 
Pure,  warm,  and  changeless  be, 

A  living  fire. 

While  life's  dark  maze  I  tread. 
And  griefs  around  me  spread. 

Be  Thou  my  guide  ; 
Bid  darkness  turn  to  day. 
Wipe  sorrow's  tears  away, 
Nor  let  me  ever  stray 

From  Thee  aside. 


^  ^ 


HALLELUJAH  !    I    BELIEVE  !  537 

When  ends  life's  transient  dream, 
When  death's  cold,  sullen  stream, 

Shall  o'er  me  roll ; 
Blest  Saviour,  then  in  love 
Fear  and  distrust  remove  ; 
O,  bear  me  safe  above, — 

A  ransomed  soul. 


HALLELUJAH!   I  BELIEVE! 

{Jck  glaube^  Hallelujah.) 


From  the  German  of  Heinrich  Mowes,  a  devoted  clergyman  near  Magdeburg, 
Prussia;  d.  1831,  after  severe  afflictions,  which  he  bore  with  heroic  faith.  Translated 
in  Hynitisfrojtt  the  Land  of  Luther,  p.  114. 


TTALLELUJAH  !  I  believe  ! 

^   Now  the  giddy  world  stands  fast, 
Now  my  soul  has  found  an  anchor 

Till  the  night  of  storm  is  past. 
All  the  gloomy  mists  are  rising, 

And  the  clew  is  in  my  hand. 
Through  earth's  labyrinth  to  guide  me 

To  a  bright  and  heavenly  land. 

Hallelujah  !  I  believe  ! 

Sorrow's  bitterness  is  o'er. 
And  affliction's  heavy  burden 

Weighs  my  spirit  down  no  more. 
On  the  cross  the  mystic  writing 

Now  revealed  before  me  lies. 


D 


FAITH   IN   CHRIST. 

And  I  read  the  words  of  comfort, 
"As  a  father,  I  chastise." 

Hallelujah  I  I  believe  ! 

Now  no  longer  on  my  soul 
All  the  debt  of  sin  is  lying : 

One  great  Friend  has  paid  the  whole  ! 
Ice-bound  fields  of  legal  labor 

I  have  left  with  all  their  toil, 
While  the  fruits  of  love  are  growing 

From  a  new  and  genial  soil. 

Hallelujah  !  I  believe  ! 

Now  life's  mystery  is  gone  ; 
Gladly  through  its  fleeting  shadows, 

To  the  end  I  journey  on. 
Through  the  tempest  or  the  sunshine. 

Over  flowers  or  ruins  led, 
Still  the  path  is  homeward  hasting, 

Where  all  sorrow  shall  have  fled. 

Hallelujah  !  I  believe  I 

Now,  O  Love  !  I  know  Thy  power ; 
Thine  no  false  or  fragile  fetters, 

Not  the  rose-wreaths  of  an  hour  !  ■ 
Christian  bonds  of  holy  union 

Death  itself  does  not  destroy ; 
Yes,  to  live  and  love  for  ever. 

Is  our  heritage  of  joy  ! 


P 


O   HOLY   SAVIOUR,    FRIEND   UNSEEN  I  539 


O   HOLY  SAVIOUR,   FRIEND  UNSEEN! 


Miss  Charlotte  Elliott,  authoress  of  "Just  as  I  am,"  and  a  large  number  of 
otiier  hymns.     1836. 


/^  HOLY  Saviour,  Friend  unseen  ! 
^^    The  faint,  the  weak,  on  Thee  may  lean ; 
Help  me,  throughout  life's  varying  scene. 
By  faith  to  cling  to  Thee. 

Blest  with  communion  so  divine. 
Take  what  Thou  wilt,  shall  I  repine, 
When,  as  the  branches  to  the  vine. 
My  soul  may  cling  to  Thee  ? 

Far  from  her  home,  fatigued,  opprest, 
Here  she  has  found  a  place  of  rest ; 
An  exile  still,  yet  not  unblest. 

While  she  can  cling  to  Thee. 

Without  a  murmur  I  dismiss 
My  former  dreams  of  earthly  bliss  : 
My  joy,  my  recompense,  be  this,  — 
Each  hour  to  cling  to  Thee. 

What  though  the  world  deceitful  prove, 
And  earthly  friends  and  joys  remove  ; 
With  patient,  uncomplaining  love, 
Still  would  I  cling  to  Thee. 


540  FAITH    IN    CHRIST. 

Oft  when  I  seem  to  tread  alone 
Some  barren  waste,  with  thorns  o'ergrown, 
A  voice  of  love,  in  gentlest  tone, 
Whispers,  "  Still  cling  to  Me." 

Though  faith  and  hope  awhile  be  tried, 
I  ask  not,  need  not,  aught  beside  : 
How  safe,  how  calm,  how  satisfied. 
The  souls  that  cling  to  Thee  ! 

They  fear  not  life's  rough  storms  to  brave. 
Since  Thou  art  near,  and  strong  to  save ; 
Nor  shudder  e'en  at  death's  dark  wave ; 
Because  they  cling  to  Thee  I 

Blest  is  my  lot,  whate'er  befall : 
What  can  disturb  me,  who  appall. 
While,  as  my  Strength,  my  Rock,  my  All, 
Saviour  I  I  cling  to  Thee? 


I   ONCE  WAS   A  STRANGER. 


Robert  Murray  McCheynk;  b.  at  Edinburgh,  1813;  pastor  at  Dundee; 
d.  1843.  The  following  hymn  is  inscribed,  "Jehovah  Tsidkenu,  'The  Lord  out 
Righteousness.'  " 


T  ONCE  was  a  stranger  to  grace  and  to  God, 

I  knew  not  my  danger,  and  felt  not  my  load ; 
Though  friends  spoke  in  rapture  of  Christ  on  the 

tree, 
Jehovah  Tsidkenu  was  nothing  to  me. 


a 


I    ONCE    WAS    A    STRANGER.  54I 

I  oft  read  with  pleasure,  to  soothe  or  engage, 
Isaiah's  wild  measure  and  John's  simple  page  ; 
But,  e'en  when  they  pictured   the   blood-sprinkled 

tree, 
Jehovah  Tsidkenu  seemed  nothing  to  me. 

Like  tears  from  the  daughters  of  Sion  that  roll, 
I  wept  when  the  w^aters  went  over  His  soul ; 
Yet  thought  not  that  my  sins  had  nailed  to  the  tree 
Jehovah  Tsidkenu, —  'twas  nothing  to  me. 

When  free  grace  awoke  me  by  light  from  on  high, 
Then  legal  fears  shook  me  :  I  trembled  to  die ; 
No  refuge,  no  safety,  in  self  could  I  see ; 
Jehovah  Tsidkenu  my  Saviour  must  be. 

My  terrors  all  vanished  before  the  sweet  name  ; 
My  guilty  fears  banished,  with  boldness  I  came 
To  drink  at  the  fountain,  life-giving  and  free  : 
Jehovah  Tsidkenu  is  all  things  to  me. 

Jehovah  Tsidkenu  I  my  treasure  and  boast ; 
Jehovah  Tsidkenu  I  I  ne'er  can  be  lost ; 
In  Thee  I  shall  conquer  by  flood  and  by  field. 
My  cable,  my  anchor,  my  breast-plate,  and  shield  ! 

Even  treading  the  valley,  the  shadow  of  death, 
This  watchword  shall  rally  m}'-  faltering  breath ; 
For,  while  from  life's  fever  my  God  sets  me  free, 
Jehovah  Tsidkenu  my  death-song  shall  be. 


542  FAITH   IN   CHRIST. 


WHILE  FAITH  IS  WITH  ME. 


Anne  Bronte.    A  prayer  for  faith.    Abridged.    I  foiind  this  poem  in  a  news- 
paper, and  cannot  vouch  for  a  correct  text 


■\  It  7HILE  Faith  is  with  me  I  am  blest 
'  '^    It  turns  my  darkest  night  to  day  ; 
But  while  I  clasp  it  to  my  breast 
I  often  feel  it  slide  away. 

Then,  cold  and  dark,  my  spirit  sinks, 
To  see  my  light  of  life  depart ; 

And  every  friend  of  hell,  methinks, 
Enjoys  the  anguish  of  my  heart. 

What  shall  I  do,  if  all  my  love, 
My  hopes,  my  toil,  are  cast  away. 

And  if  there  be  no  God  above 

To  hear  and  bless  me  when  I  pray  ?  — 

If  this  be  vain  delusion  all, 
If  death  be  an  eternal  sleep, 

And  none  can  hear  my  secret  call, 
Or  see  the  silent  tears  I  weep  ? 

Oh,  help  me  God  !  for  Thou  alone 
Canst  my  distracted  soul  relieve  ; 

Forsake  it  not;  it  is  Thine  own. 

Though  weak,  yet  longing  to  believe. 


fi= 


WE  WERE  NOT  WITH  THE  FAITHFUL.    543 

Oh,  drive  these  crilel  doubts  away, 

And  make  me  know  that  Thou  art  God  ! 

A  faith  that  shines  by  night  and  day 
Will  lighten  every  earthly  load. 

If  I  believed  that  Jesus  died, 

And,  waking,  rose  to  reign  above. 

Then,  surely,  sorrow,  sin,  and  pride. 
Must  yield  to  peace  and  hope  and  love. 

And  all  the  blessed  words  He  said 
Will  strength  and  holy  joy  impart ; 

A  shield  of  safety  o'er  my  head, 
A  spring  of  comfort  in  my  heart. 


WE  WERE  NOT  WITH  THE  FAITHFUL. 


From  the  Canterbury  Hymnal,  1863.     John  xx.  29 :  "  Blessed  are  they  that  have 
not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed." 


"XT  7E  were  not  with  the  faithful  few 

'  '      Who  stood  Thy  bitter  cross  around, 
Nor  heard  Thy  prayer  for  those  that  slew, 
Nor  felt  that  earthquake  rock  the  ground 
We  saw  no  spear-wound  pierce  Thy  side : 
Yet  we  believe  that  Thou  hast  died. 

No  angel's  message  met  our  ear 

On  that  first  glorious  Easter  day,  — 
"The  Lord  is  risen.     He  is  not  here  : 


D 


5 


544  FAITH   IN   CHRIST. 

Come,  see  the  place  where  Jesus  lay  I " 
But  we  believe  that  Thou  didst  quell 
The  banded  powers  of  death  and  hell. 

We  saw  Thee  not  return  on  high ; 

And  now,  our  longing  sight  to  bless, 
No  ray  of  glory  from  the  sky 

Shines  down  upon  our  wilderness  : 
Yet  we  believe  that  Thou  art  there, 
And  seek  Thee,  Lord,  in  praise  and  prayer. 


LIFE'S   MYSTERY. 


"The  Mystery  of  Life."  A  poem  of  rare  beauty.  By  Mrs.  Harriet  Bekcher 
Stowe;  b.  1812;  authoress  of  Uncle  Tain's  Cabin,  &c.  From  her  Religious  Focms, 
Boston,  1867,  p.  74. 

"  Let  my  heart  calm  itself  in  Thee.  Let  the  great  sea  of  my  heart,  that  swellelh 
with  waves,  calm  itself  in  Thee."  —  St.  Augustine. 

T    IFE'S  mystery  —  deep,  restless,  as  the  ocean  — 
-'— '    Hath  surged  and  wailed  for  ages  to  and  fro ; 
Earth's  generations  watch  its  ceaseless  motion. 

As  in  and  out  its  hollow  moanings  flow. 
Shivering  and  yearning  by  that  unknown  sea. 
Let  my  soul  calm  itself,  O  Christ,  in  Thee  ! 

Life's  sorrows,  wdth  inexorable  power, 
Sweep  desolation  o'er  this  mortal  plain  ; 

And  human  loves  and  hopes  fly  as  the  chaff" 
Borne  by  the  whirlwind  from  the  ripened  grain. 


LIFES    MYSTERY. 


Ah  !  when  before  that  blast  my  hopes  all  flee, 
Let  my  soul  calm  itself,  O  Christ,  in  Thee  ! 

Between  the  mysteries  of  death  and  life 

Thou  standest,  loving,  guiding,  not  explaining ; 

We  ask,  and  Thou  art  silent;  yet  we  gaze. 

And  our  charmed  hearts  forget  their  drear  com- 
plaining. 

No  crushing  fate,  no  stony  destiny, 

O  Lamb  that  hast  been  slain,  we  find  in  Thee  ! 

The  many  waves  of  thought,  the  mighty  tides. 
The  ground-swell  that  rolls  up  from  other  lands,  - 

From  far-off  worlds,  from  dim,  eternal  shores, 
Whose  echo  dashes  on  life's  wave- worn  strands,— 

This  vague,  dark  tumult  of  the  inner  sea 

Grows  calm,  grows  bright,  O  risen  Lord,  in  Thee  ! 

Thy  pierced  hand  guides  the  mysterious  wheels ; 
Thy  thorn-crowned  brow  now  wears  the  crown 
of  power ; 
And,  when  the  dread  enigma  presseth  sore. 

Thy  patient  voice  saith,  "Watch  with    Me   one 
hour." 
As  sinks  the  moaning  river  in  the  sea 
In  silver  peace,  so  sinks  my  soul  in  Thee  ! 


«•_ 

545 

> 

35 


54^  FAITH    IN    CHRIST. 


WHEN  TIME  SEEMS   SHORT. 


By  the  Rev.  Georgb  W.  Bethune,  D.D.,  minister  of  the  Reformed  Dutch 
Church,  New  York.  This  touching  poem  was  found  in  his  portfolio,  and  was  written 
on  the  day  before  his  death,  which  took  place  on  the  Lord's  Day,  April  27,  1862,  at 
Florence  in  Italy,  the  same  day  on  which  he  preached  his  last  sermon,  on  Matt.  ix. : 
"  Son,  be  of  good  cheer :  thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee."  (Dr.  van  Nest,  Memoir  of  Dr, 
Bethune,  1867,  p.  409.) 


"\  T  7HEN  time  seems  short  and  death  Is  near, 

*  '    And  I  am  pressed  by  doubt  and  fear, 
And  sins,  an  overflowing  tide, 
Assail  my  peace  on  every  side. 
This  thought  my  refuge  still  shall  be, 
I  know  the  Saviour  died  for  me. 

His  name  is  Jesus,  and  He  died, 
For  guilty  sinners  crucified ; 
Content  to  die  that  He  might  win 
Their  ransom  from  the  death  of  sin  : 
No  sinner  worse  than  I  can  be. 
Therefore  I  know  He  died  for  me. 

If  grace  were  bought,  I  could  not  buy ; 
If  grace  were  coined,  no  wealth  have  I ; 
By  grace  alone  I  draw  my  breath. 
Held  up  from  everlasting  death ; 
Yet,  since  I  know  His  grace  is  free, 
I  know  the  Saviour  died  for  me. 


STRONG    SON    OF    GOD.  547 

I  read  God's  holy  Word,  and  find 

Great  truths  which  far  transcend  my  mind 

And  little  do  I  know  beside 

Of  thoughts  so  high,  so  deep  and  wide  : 

This  is  my  best  theology, 

I  know  the  Saviour  died  for  me. 

My  faith  is  weak,  but  'tis  Thy  gift ; 
Thou  canst  my  helpless  soul  uplift. 
And  say,  "Thy  bonds  of  death  are  riven, 
Thy  sins  by  Me  are  all  forgiven ; 
And  thou  shalt  live  from  guilt  set  free, 
For  I,  Thy  Saviour,  died  for  thee." 


STRONG  SON  OF  GOD. 


Alfred  Teni^vson,  poet  laureate  of  England.     Introductory  to  his  In  Menuf- 
rinnt,  1S49.     Abridged. 


OTRONG  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love, 
*^   Whom  we,  that  have  not  seen  Thy  face, 

By  faith,  and  faith  alone,  embrace, 
Believing  where  we  cannot  prove  ! 

Thine  are  these  orbs  of  light  and  shade  ,• 
Thou  madest  life  in  man  and  brute  ; 
Thou  madest  Death  ;  and,  lo  !  Thy  foot 

Is  on  the  skull  which  Thou  hast  made. 


548  FAITH    IN    CHRIST. 

Thou  wilt  not  leave  us  in  the  dust : 

Thou  madest  man,  he  knows  not  why ; 
He  thinks  he  was  not  made  to  die ; 

And  Thou  hast  made  him  :  Thou  art  just. 

Thou  seemest  human  and  divine, 

The  highest,  holiest  manhood  Thou  : 
Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how ; 

Our  wills  are  ours,  to  make  them  Thine. 

Our  little  systems  have  their  day ; 

They  have  their  day,  and  cease  to  be ; 

They  are  but  broken  lights  of  Thee, 
And  Thou,  O  Lord  !  art  more  than  they. 

We  have  but  faith  :  we  cannot  know. 
For  knowledge  is  of  things  we  see  ; 
And  yet  we  trust  it  comes  from  Thee, 

A  beam  in  darkness :  let  it  grow. 

Let  knowledge  grow  from  more  to  more. 
But  more  of  reverence  in  us  dwell ; 
That  mind  and  soul,  according  well. 

May  make  one  music,  as  before. 


fc 


UNION  WITH   CHRIST. 


"Abide  in  Me,  and  I  in  you."  —  John  xv.  4. 

"  We  are  members  of  His  body,  of  His  flesh,  and  of  His  bones."  —  Eph.  v.  30. 
"  God  hath  given  to  us  eternal  life,  and  this  life  is  in  His  Son.     He  that  hath  the 
Son,  hath  hfe."  — i  John  v.  ii,  12. 

TTOLY  SAVIOUR,  who  art  the  true  Vine  from  which  we 
derive  our  spiritual  life  and  nourishment,  and  without  whona 
we  can  do  nothing  but  wither  and  die :  be  pleased,  we  beseech 
Thee,  so  to  unite  us  to  Thee,  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
and  through  the  bond  of  a  living  faith,  that,  being  partakers  of 
Thy  divine  nature,  we  may  bring  forth  much  fruit,  and  for  ever 
abide  in  Thee,  as  Thou  dost  abide  in  us,  until  we  shall  see  Thee 
as  Thou  art,  and  glorify  and  enjoy  Thee,  with  the  Father  and 
the  Holy  Spirit,  for  ever  and  ever.     Amen. 

Mv  blessed  Saviour,  Lord  divine, 
I  am  Thine  own,  and  Thou  art  mine. 
I  am  Thine  own  ;  for  Thou  didst  give 
Thy  precious  life,  that  I  might  live. 
And  Thou  art  mine :  with  all  my  heart, 
I  cleave  to  Thee,  my  chosen  part. 
How  dearly  didst  Thou  purchase  me  I 
Oh,  let  me  never  part  from  Thee  I 


UNION    WITH    CHRIST. 


HOW  LOVELY  SHINES  THE  STAR! 

(  Wi'e  scion  leucktet  der  Morgenstefn^ 


From  the  German  of  Philipp  Nikolai,  a  Lutheran  minister  at  Unna,  Westphalia. 
A  favorite  German  hymn,  written  in  a  time  of  prevailing  pestilence,  1597-  It  cele- 
brates the  union  of  a  believing  soul  with  Christ,  her  heavenly  Bridegroom,  according 
to  Psalm  xlv.  and  the  Song  of  Solomon.  A.  Knapp  pronounces  this  the  sweetest  and 
most  excellent  of  all  German  hymns,  and  compares  it  with  the  17th  chapter  of  John. 
It  has  a  rich  and  blessed  history.  The  tune  is  one  of  the  noblest  German  chorals. 
Translated  i860,  from  the  text  in  Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  311,  in  the  metre  of  the 
original,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  H.  Harbaugh  (d.  1867). 


T  TOW  lovely  shines  the  Morning  Star  ! 
The  nations  see  and  hail  afar 
The  light  in  Judah  shining. 
Thou  David's  Son  of  Jacob's  race, 
My  Bridegroom,  and  my  King  of  grace. 
For  Thee  my  heart  is  pining  ! 

Lowly,  holy. 
Great  and  glorious,  Thou  victorious 

Prince  of  graces, 
Filling  all  the  heavenly  places  ! 

O  highest  joy  by  mortals  won  ! 
Of  Mary  and  of  God,  the  Son  ! 


552  UNION   WITH    CHRIST. 

Thou  high-born  King  of  ages, 
Thou  art  my  heart's  best,  sweetest  flower, 
And  Thy  blest  gospel's  saving  power 
My  raptured  soul  engages. 

Thou  mine,  I  Thine  ; 
Sing  Hosanna  !     Heavenly  manna 

Tasting,  eating. 
Whilst  Thy  love  in  songs  repeating. 

Now  richly  to  my  waiting  heart, 
O  Thou,  my  God,  deign  to  impart 

The  grace  of  love  undying. 
In  Thy  blest  Body  let  me  be. 
E'en  as  the  branch  is  in  the  tree ; 

Thy  life  my  life  supplying. 
Sighing,  crying. 

For  the  savor  of  Thy  favor  ; 
Resting  never. 

Till  I  rest  in  Thee  for  ever. 

Token  of  peace  from  God  I  see, 
When  Thy  pure  eyes  are  turned  to  me 

With  heavenly  enliving ; 
Jesus,  Thy  Spirit  and  Thy  Word, 
Thy  body  and  Thy  blood,  afford 

My  soul  the  best  reviving. 
Take  me  kindly. 

To  Thy  favor,  O  my  Saviour  ! 
Thou  wilt  cheer  me. 

Since  Thy  word  invites  me  near  Thee. 


HOW   LOVELY    SHINES    THE    STAR  !  553 

My  Father  God,  in  mercy's  plan, 
Before  creation's  work  began, 

Thy  love  in  Christ  foresaw  me. 
Thy  Son  has  called  me  to  His  side ; 
He  is  my  Friend,  I  am  His  bride. 

From  Him  no  power  can  draw  me. 
Praise  be  to  Thee  ! 

Thou  hast  given  life  of  heaven  ! 
I  shall  never 

Die,  but  praise  Thy  love  for  ever. 

"Wake,  wake,  your  harps  to  sweetest  songs  ! 
In  praise  of  Him,  to  whom  belongs 

All  praise,  join  hearts  and  voices. 
For  evermore,  O  Christ !  in  Thee, 
Thee  all  in  all  of  love  to  me. 

My  grateful  heart  rejoices. 
With  joy,  employ, 

Hymns  victorious,  glad  and  glorious  ; 
E'er  be  given 

Honor  to  the  King  of  heaven. 

O  joy !  to  know  that  Thou,  my  Friend, 
Art  Lord,  Beginning  without  end, 

The  First  and  Last,  — Eternal ! 
And  Thou  at  length  —  O  glorious  grace  !  — 
Wilt  take  me  to  that  holy  place, 

The  home  of  joys  supernal. 
Amen,  Amen ! 


D 


554  UNION   WITH    CHRIST. 

Come  and  meet  me,  quickly  greet  me ; 

Draw  me  ever 
Nearer  to  Thyself  for  ever  ! 


LORD,   THOU  ART  MINE. 


By  the  Rev.  George  Herbert,  Rector  of  Bemerton,  d.  1632. 


T    ORD,  Thou  art  mine,  and  I  am  Thine, 
-■-^    If  mine  I  am  :  and  Thine  much  more, 
Than  I  or  ought,  or  can  be  mine. 
Yet  to  be  Thine,  doth  me  restore ; 
So  that  again  I  now  am  mine. 
And  with  advantage  mine  the  more. 
Since  this  being  mine,  brings  with  it  Thine, 
And  Thou  with  me  dost  Thee  restore. 
If  I  without  Thee  would  be  mine, 
I  neither  should  be  mine  or  Thine. 

Lord,  I  am  Thine,  and  Thou  art  mine  : 
So  mine  Thou  art,  that  something  more 
I  may  presume  Thee  mine,  then  Thine ; 
For  Thou  didst  suffer  to  restore 
Not  Thee,  but  me,  and  to  be  mine  : 
And  with  advantage  mine  the  more, 
Since  Thou  in  death  wast  none  of  Thine, 
Yet  then  as  mine  didst  me  restore. 

O  be  mine  still !  still  make  me  Thine ; 

Or  rather  make  no  Thine  and  mine  ! 


■nj 


I  LEAVE   THEE   NOT.  $55 


I  LEAVE  THEE  NOT. 

(^Ich  lass  Dick  ntcht^  Du  musst  mein  Jesus  bleiben.') 


From  the  German  of  Wolfgang  Christoph  Dessler  (b.  i66o,  d.  1722,  author 
of  fifty-six  hymns),  by  Dr.  James  W.  Alexander  (d.  1859). 


T  LEAVE  Thee  not :  Thou  art  my  Jesus  ever, 
"^         Though  earth  rebel, 
And  death  and  hell 
Would,  from  its  steadfast  hold,  my  faith  dissever. 
Ah,  no  I  I  ever  will 
Cling  to  my  Helper  still, 
Hear  what  my  love  is  taught ; 
Thou  art  my  Jesus  ever, 
I  leave  Thee  not,  I  leave  Thee  not ! 

I  leave  Thee  not,  O  Love  !  of  love  the  highest. 
Though  doubt  display 
Its  battle-day ; 
I  own  the  power  which  Thou  my  Lord  appliest : 
Thou  didst  bear  guilt  and  woe ; 
Shall  I  to  torment  go. 
When  into  judgment  brought? 
O  Love  !  of  love  the  highest, 
I  leave  Thee  not,  I  leave  Thee  not ! 


556  UNION   WITH    CHRIST. 

I  leave  Thee  not,  O  Thou  who  sweetly  cheerest  1 
Whose  fresh  supplies 
Cause  strength  to  rise, 
Just  in  the  hour  when  faith's  decay  Is  nearest. 
If  sickness  chill  the  soul, 
And  nights  of  languor  roll, 
My  heart  one  hope  hath  caught : 
O  Thou  who  sweetly  cheerest, 
I  leave  Thee  not,  I  leave  Thee  not ! 

I  leave  Thee  not.  Thou  help  in  tribulation  ; 
By  stroke  on  stroke, 
Though  almost  broke, 
I  hope,  when  all  seems  near  to  desolation. 
Do  what  Thou  wilt  with  me, 
I  still  must  cling  to  Thee ; 
Thy  grace  I  have  besought ; 
Thou  help  in  tribulation, 
I  leave  Thee  not,  I  leave  Thee  not ! 

I  leave  Thee  not :  shall  I  forsake  salvation  ? 
No,  Jesus,  no  ! 
Thou  shalt  not  go ; 
Mine  still  Thou  art,  to  free  from  condemnation. 
After  this  fleeting  night. 
Thy  presence  brings  me  light. 
Whose  ray  my  soul  hath  sought ; 
Shall  I  forsake  salvation? 
I  leave  Thee  not,  I  leave  Thee  not ! 


I   LEAVE   THEE   NOT.  557 

I  leave  Thee  not :  Thy  word  my  way  shall  brighten ; 
With  Thee  I  go 
Through  weal  and  woe, 
Thy  precept  wise  shall  every  burden  lighten. 
My  Lord,  on  Thee  I  hang. 
Nor  heed  the  journey's  pang, 
Though  thorny  be  my  lot : 
Let  but  Thy  word  enlighten, 
I  leave  Thee  not,  I  leave  Thee  not ! 

I  leave  Thee  not,  even  in  the  lap  of  pleasure ; 
For,  when  I  stray 
Without  Thy  ray, 
My  richest  joy  must  cease  to  be  a  treasure. 
I  shudder  at  the  glee. 
When  no  delight  from  Thee 
Has  heartfelt  peace  begot : 
Even  in  the  lap  of  pleasure, 
I  leave  Thee  not,  I  leave  Thee  not ! 

I  leave  Thee  not,  my  God,  my  Lord,  my  Heaven ! 
Nor  death  shall  rend 
From  Thee,  my  Friend, 
Who  for  my  soul  Thyself  to  death  hast  given. 
For  Thou  didst  die  for  me, 
And  love  goes  back  to  Thee  ; 
My  heart  has  but  one  thought : 
My  God,  my  Life,  my  Heaven, 
I  leave  Thee  not,  I  leave  Thee  not ! 


U 


558  UNION   WITH   CHRIST. 


MY  SAVIOUR  I    I  AM  THINE. 


Dr.  Philip  Doddridgb.    1755.     On  i  Cor.  vi.  17,  "  Being  joined  to  Christ,  and 
one  spirit  with  Him." 


ly/TY  Saviour  I  I  am  Thine,^ 
•^  -^    By  everlasting  bands  ; 
My  name,  my  heart,  I  would  resign ; 
My  soul  is  in  Thy  hands. 

To  Thee  I  still  would  cleave 

With  ever-growing  zeal ; 
Let  millions  tempt  me  Christ  to  leave, 

They  never  shall  prevail ! 

Thy  Spirit  shall  unite 

My  soul  to  Thee,  my  Head ; 
Shall  form  me  to  Thine  image  bright, 

And  teach  Thy  paths  to  tread. 

Death  may  my  soul  divide 

From  this  abode  of  clay ; 
But  love  shall  keep  me  near  Thy  side, 

Through  all  the  gloomy  way. 

1  This  is  the  original  form  in  Doddridge's  Hymns,  edited,  from 
the  author's  MS.,  by  Job  Orton.  Nearly  all  the  hymn-books, 
however,  read,  "  Dear  Saviour,  we  are  Thine,"  and  substitute  the 
plural  throughout  for  the  singular. 


c: 


JESUS    IMMUTABLY    THE    SAME.  559 

Since  Christ  and  we  are  one, 

Why  should  we  doubt  or  fear? 
If  He  in  heaven  has  fixed  His  throne, 

He'll  fix  His  members  there. 


JESUS,  IMMUTABLY  THE  SAME. 


By  the  Rev.  Augustus  M.  Toplady,  B.A.,  Vicar  of  Broadhembury,  Devoa 
1776.     "The  Vine  and  the  Branches."    John  xv.  1-8. 


TESUS,  immutably  the  same, 
*^  Thou  true  and  living  vine, 
Around  Thy  all-supporting  stem. 
My  feeble  arms  I  twine. 

Quickened  by  Thee,  and  kept  alive, 

I  flourish  and  bear  fruit ; 
My  life  I  from  Thy  sap  derive. 

My  vigor  from  Thy  root. 

Grafted  in  Thee  by  grace  alone. 

In  growth  I  daily  rise ; 
And,  raised  on  this  foundation-stone. 

My  top  shall  reach  the  skies. 

I  can  do  nothing  without  Thee  : 
My  strength  is  wholly  Thine  ; 

Withered  and  barren  should  I  be. 
If  severed  from  the  vine. 


D 


560  UNION   WITH    CHRIST. 

Upon  my  leaf,  when  parched  with  heat, 

Refreshing  dew  shall  drop  : 
The  plant,  which  Thy  right  hand  hath  set, 

Shall  ne'er  be  rooted  up. 

Till  Thou  hast  led  me  to  the  place 

Of  pure,  immortal  joy, 
The  riches  of  Thy  glorious  grace 

Shall  all  my  need  supply. 

Who  from  eternity  decreed 

To  glorify  His  own. 
Will  not  forsake  the  holy  seed, 

Nor  take  away  their  crown. 

The  righteous  shall  hold  on  their  way, 

Nor  miss  the  promised  land  : 
Jesus  shall  guard  them  night  and  day. 

And  hide  them  in  His  hand. 

Each  moment  watered  by  Thy  care, 
And  fenced  with  power  divine. 

Fruit  to  eternal  life  shall  bear 
The  feeblest  branch  of  Thine. 


JESUS,    LEAD    US    WITH    THY    POWER.  561 


JESUS,   LEAD  US   WITH   THY  POWER. 


William  Williams,  a  Calvinistic  Methodist,  who  preached  with  great  eflect  in 
Wales,  and  composed  several  hymns,  chiefly  in  the  Welsh  language;  d.  1791. 


TESUS,  lead  us  with  Thy  power 

Safe  into  the  promised  rest ; 
Hide  our  souls  within  Thy  bosom  ; 

Let  us  slumber  on  Thy  breast ; 
Feed  us  with  the  heavenly  manna, 

Bread  that  angels  eat  above  ; 
Let  us  drink  from  the  holy  fountain 
Draughts  of  everlasting  love. 

Throughout  the  desert  wild  conduct  us, 

With  a  glorious  pillar  bright ; 
In  the  day  a  cooling  comfort, 

And  a  cheering  fire  by  night ; 
Be  our  guide  in  every  peril ; 

Watch  us  hourly,  night  and  day ; 
Otherwise  we'll  err  and  wander 

From  Thy  Spirit  far  away. 

In  Thy  presence  we  are  happy ; 

In  Thy  presence  we're  secure  ; 
In  Thy  presence  all  afflictions 

We  will  easily  endure  ; 
36     . 


562  UNION   WITH    CHRIST. 

In  Thy  presence  we  can  conquer, 
We  can  suffer,  we  can  die ; 

Far  from  Thee,  we  faint  and  languish ; 
Lord,  our  Saviour,  keep  us  nigh. 


SUN  OF  MY  SOUL. 

From  the  Evening  Hymn  of  Dr.  John  Khblk  (d.  t866),  the  second  in  his  Christian 
K?ar  (first  published  1827),  commencing:  — 

"  'Tis  gone,  that  bright  and  orb^d  blaze, 
Fast  fading  from  our  wistful  gaze." 

Sir  R.  Palmer  (No.  CCLIX.),  the  compilers  of  Hymns  Attcient  and  Modfrn, 
and  other  editors,  omit  the  first  two  stanzas ;  and,  in  this  abridged  form,  the  hymn  is 
likely  to  pass  into  general  use,  as  equal  in  merit  to  Bishop  Ken's  well-known  evening- 
hymn.     Alford,  in  his  Year  of  Praise,  1867,  No.  314,  gives  only  three  verses. 


OUN  of  my  soul,  Thou  Saviour  dear, 
*^    It  is  not  night  if  Thou  be  near  ; 
Oh  !  may  no  earth-born  cloud  arise 
To  hide  Thee  from  Thy  servant's  eyes  ! 

When  round  Thy  wondrous  works  below 
My  searching  rapturous  glance  I  throw, 
Tracing  out  wisdom,  power,  and  love. 
In  earth  or  sky,  in  stream  or  grove  ; 

Or,  by  the  light  Thy  words  disclose. 
Watch  time's  full  river  as  it  flows, 
Scanning  Thy  gracious  providence. 
Where  not  too  deep  for  mortal  sense ; 


SUN    OF   MY   SOUL.  563 

When  with  dear  friends  sweet  talk  I  hold, 
And  all  the  flowers  of  life  unfold,  — 
Let  not  my  heart  within  me  burn, 
Except  in  all  I  Thee  discern  ! 

When  the  soft  dews  of  kindly  sleep 
My  wearied  eyelids  gently  steep, 
Be  my  last  thought,  how  sweet  to  rest 
For  ever  on  my  Saviour's  breast ! 

Abide  with  me  from  morn  till  eve. 
For  without  Thee  I  cannot  live  ! 
Abide  with  me  when  night  is  nigh. 
For  without  Thee  I  dare  not  die  ! 

Thou  Framer  of  the  light  and  dark, 
Steer  through  the  tempest  Thine  own  ark  I 
Amid  the  howling  wintry  sea 
We  are  in  port  if  we  have  Thee. 

The  rulers  of  this  Christian  land, 
'Twixt  Thee  and  us  ordained  to  stand. 
Guide  Thou  their  course,  O  Lord  !  aright ; 
Let  all  do  all  as  in  Thy  sight  I 

Oh  I  by  Thine  own  sad  burthen,  borne 
So  meekly  up  the  hill  of  scorn. 
Teach  Thou  Thy  priests  their  daily  cross 
To  bear  as  Thine,  nor  count  it  loss  ! 


If 


3 


564  UNION   WITH    CHRIST. 

If  some  poor  wandering  child  of  Thine 
Have  spurned,  to-day,  the  voice  divine ; 
Now,  Lord,  the  gracious  work  begin; 
Let  him  no  more  lie  down  in  sin  ! 

Watch  by  the  sick,  enrich  the  poor 
With  blessings  from  Thy  boundless  store  I 
Be  every  mourner's  sleep  to-night 
Like  infant's  slumbers,  pure  and  light ! 

Come  near  and  bless  us  when  we  wake, 
Ere  through  the  world  our  way  we  take : 
Till,  in  the  ocean  of  Thy  love. 
We  lose  ourselves  in  Heaven  above  ! 


AH !  JESUS  LET  ME  HEAR  THY  VOICE. 


Andrew  Rekd,  D.D.  ;  1787-1862 ;  Independent  minister  at  London,  founder  of 
several  orphan  asylums,  and  author  of  popular  works.  In  1841,  he  published  a  Collec- 
tion of  hymns,  with  twenty-seven  compositions  of  his  own. 


A  H  !  Jesus,  let  me  hear  Thy  voice 
•^  ^   Fall  gently  on  mine  ear ; 
Thy  voice  alone  can  soothe  my  grief. 
And  charm  away  my  fear. 

Ah  !  Jesus,  let  me  see  Thy  face 
Beaming  with  truth  and  love ; 

I  ask  no  other  heaven  below. 
No  other  heaven  above. 


WHEN  IN  THE  HOUR  OF  LONELY  WOE.   565 

Ah  !  Jesus,  let  me  feel  Thy  grace ; 

Now  hear  my  earnest  cry : 
If  Thou  art  absent,  oh !  behold 

I  droop,  I  faint,  I  die ! 

"I  come,  I  come  !  "  the  Saviour  cries, 

"  To  give  you  full  repose ; 
My  presence  shall  revive  your  joys, 

My  frown  confound  your  foes." 

I  hear  His  voice  !  I  see  His  face  ! 

I  feel  His  present  grace  I 
'Tis  life,  'tis  heaven,  'tis  transport,  thus 

To  rest  in  His  embrace. 


WHEN  IN  THE  HOUR  OF  LONELY  WOE. 


JosiAH  CoNDER,  an  author  and  publisher;  b.  in  London,  1789;  d.  1855  One  of 
the  best  modem  hymn-writere.  From  the  revised  edition  of  his  Hymns  0/  PraUe, 
frayer,  and  Devout  Meditation,  1855. 


V\/'HEN  in  the  hour  of  lonely  woe, 
I  give  my  sorrow  leave  to  flow. 
And  anxious  fear  and  dark  distrust 
Weigh  down  my  spirit  to  the  dust ; 

When  not  e'en  friendship's  gentle  aid 
Can  heal  the  wounds  the  world  has  made. 
Oh  !  this  shall  check  each  rising  sigh. 
That  Jesus  is  for  ever  nigh. 


566  UNION   WITH    CHRIST. 

His  counsels  and  upholding  care 
My  safety  and  my  comfort  are ; 
And  He  shall  guide  me  all  my  days, 
Till  glory  crown  the  work  of  grace. 

Jesus  !  in  whom  but  Thee  above 
Can  I  repose  my  trust,  my  love  ? 
And  shall  an  earthly  object  be 
Loved  in  comparison  with  Thee? 

My  flesh  is  hastening  to  decay. 

Soon  shall  the  world  have  passed  away  ; 

And  what  can  mortal  friends  avail, 

When  heart  and  strength  and  life  shall  fail? 

But  oh  !  be  Thou,  my  Saviour,  nigh, 
And  I  will  triumph  while  I  die  ; 
My  strength,  my  portion,  is  divine, 
And  Jesus  is  for  ever  mine  ! 


IN  THY  SERVICE  WILL   I   EVER. 

(^Bei  Dirt  J^su^  w/?/  ich  bleiben.) 


"  I  will  abide  ynth  thee."    From  the  German  of  Spitta,  1836.  by  Richard 
Massie,  1S60. 


TN  Thy  service  will  I  ever, 

Jesus,  my  Redeemer,  stay  ; 

Nothing  me  from  Thee  shall  sever, 

Gladly  would  I  go  Thy  way. 


& 


IN    THY    SERVICE    WILL    I    EVER.  567 

Life  in  me  Thy  life  produces, 

And  gives  vigor  to  my  heart, 
As  the  vine  doth  living  juices 

To  the  purple  grape  impart. 

Could  I  be  in  other  places 

Half  so  happy  as  with  Thee, 
Who  so  many  gifts  and  graces 

Hast  Thyself  prepared  for  me  ? 
No  place  could  be  half  so  fitted 

To  impart  true  joy,  I  ween, 
Since  to  Thee,  O  Lord  !  committed 

Power  in  heaven  and  earth  hath  been. 

Where  shall  I  find  such  a  Master, 

Who  hath  done  my  soul  such  good. 
And  retrieved  the  great  disaster 

Sin  first  caused,  by  His  own  blood? 
Is  not  He  my  rightful  owner. 

Who  for  me  His  own  life  gave? 
Were  it  not  a  foul  dishonor 

Not  to  love  Him  to  the  grave  ? 

Yes,  Lord  Jesus,  I  am  ever 

Thine  in  sorrrow  and  in  joy  ; 
Death  the  union  shall  not  sever, 

Nor  eternity  destroy. 
I  am  waiting,  yea,  am  sighing 

For  my  summons  to  depart ; 
He  is  best  prepared  for  dying 

Who  in  life  is  Thine  in  heart. 


D 


568  UNION    WITH    CHRIST. 

Let  Thy  light  on  me  be  shining 

When  the  day  is  almost  gone, 
When  the  evening  is  declining, 

And  the  night  is  drawing  on  : 
Bless  me,  O  my  Saviour !  laying 

Thy  hands  on  my  weary  head ; 
"  Here  thy  day  is  ended,"  saying, 

"  Yonder  live  the  faithful  dead." 

Stay  beside  me,  when  the  stillness 

And  the  icy  touch  of  death 
Fills  my  trembling  soul  with  chillness, 

Like  the  morning's  frosty  breath ; 
As  my  failing  eyes  grow  dimmer. 

Let  my  spirit  grow  more  bright. 
As  I  see  the  first  faint  glimmer 

Of  the  everlasting  light. 


O   HAPPY  HOUSE! 

(O  selig  Haus,  wo  man  Dick  aufgenommen.') 

From  the  German  of  C.  J.  Ph.  Spitta  (d.  1859),  Psalter  -und  Harfe,  Leipzig, 
1836,  p.  100.  A  beautiful  description  of  a  Christian  household,  from  the  personal  expe- 
rience of  the  lovely  author,  on  the  words  "Salvation  is  come  to  this  house"  (Luke 
xix.  9).  Hymtis  fro7n  the  Land  of  Luther,  p.  121,  shghtly  altered,  in  conformity  to 
the  original.  Another  translation  by  R.  Massie:  "O  happy  house  1  O  liome  su- 
premely blest  1"  

/^  HAPPY  house  !  where  Thou  art  loved  the  best, 
^-^    Dear  Friend  and  Saviour  of  our  race, 
Where  never  comes  such  welcome,  honored  Guest, 
Where  none  can  ever  fill  Thy  place ; 


D 


O    HAPPY    HOUSE  !  569 

Where  every  heart  goes  forth  to  meet  Thee, 

Where  every  ear  attends  Thy  word, 
Where  every  lip  with  blessing  greets  Thee, 

Where  all  are  waiting  on  their  Lord. 

O  happy  house  !  where  man  and  wife  in  heart, 

In  faith,  and  hope  are  one, 
That  neither  life  nor  death  can  ever  part 

The  holy  union  here  begun ; 
Where  both  are  sharing  one  salvation, 

And  live  before  Thee,  Lord,  always. 
In  gladness  or  in  tribulation. 

In  happy  or  in  evil  days. 

O  happy  house !  whose  little  ones  are  given 

Early  to  Thee,  in  faith  and  prayer,  — 
ToThee,theirFriend,whofrom  the  heights  of  heaven 

Guards  them  with  more  than  mother's  care. 
O  happy  house  !  where  little  voices 

Their  glad  hosannas  love  to  raise ; 
And  childhood's  lisping  tongue  rejoices 

To  bring  new  songs  of  love  and  praise. 

O  happy  house  !  and  happy  servitude  ! 

Where  all  alike  one  Master  own ; 
Where  daily  duty,  in  Thy  strength  pursued, 

Is  never  hard  nor  toilsome  known  ; 
Where  each  one  serves  Thee,  meek  and  lowly, 

Whatever  Thine  appointment  be. 
Till  common  tasks  seem  great  and  holy. 

When  they  are  done  as  unto  Thee. 


57©  UNION   WITH   CHRIST. 

O  happy  house  !  where  Thou  art  not  forgot 

When  joy  is  flowing  full  and  free  ; 
O  happy  house  !  where  every  wound  is  brought — • 

Physician,  Comforter — to  Thee. 
Until  at  last,  earth's  day's  work  ended. 

All  meet  Thee  in  that  home  above, 
From  whence  Thou  earnest,  where  Thou  hast  as- 
cended. 

Thy  heaven  of  glory  and  of  love  1 


CHIEF  OF  SINNERS   THOUGH   I   BE. 


William  McComb  (b.  1793),  a  bookseller  in  Belfast    His  poetical  works  were 
published  1864. 


/^^HIEF  of  sinners  though  I  be, 
^^   Jesus  shed  His  blood  for  me  ; 
Died,  that  I  might  live  on  high  ; 
Lived,  that  I  might  never  die. 
As  the  branch  is  to  the  vine, 
I  am  His  and  He  is  mine. 

Oh  !  the  height  of  Jesus'  love  ! 
Higher  than  the  heavens  above, 
Deeper  than  the  depths  of  sea, 
Lasting  as  eternity ; 

Love  that  found  me,  wondrous  thought ! 
Found  me  when  I  sought  Him  not. 


ON    THEE,    O  JESUS  !  57l 

Jesus  only  can  impart 
Balm  to  heal  the  smitten  heart ; 
Peace  that  flows  from  sin  forgiven, 
Joy  that  lifts  the  soul  to  heaven ; 
Faith  and  hope  to  walk  with  God, 
In  the  way  that  Enoch  trod. 

Chief  of  sinners  though  I  be, 
Christ  is  all  in  all  to  me : 
All  my  wants  to  Him  are  known. 
All  my  sorrows  are  His  own ; 
Safe  with  Him  from  earthly  strife, 
He  sustains  the  hidden  life. 

O  my  Saviour,  help  afford, 
By  Thy  Spirit  and  Thy  Word  ! 
When  my  wayward  heart  would  stray, 
Keep  me  in  the  narrow  way ; 
Grace  in  time  of  need  supply, 
While  I  live,  and  when  I  die. 


ON  THEE,   O  JESUS 


Dr.  HoRATlus  BoNAR.    From  his  Hymns  of  Faith  and  Hope,  Third  Series,  1868. 
"  Fellowship  with  Christ." 


/^N  Thee,  O  Jesus  I  strongly  leaning, 
^^    I  calmly  onward  go  ; 
No  cloud,  no  coldness,  intervening, 
To  damp  love's  blessed  glow. 


ft 


c-^ 


572  UNION   WITH    CHRIST. 

In  Thee  for  ever,  Lord,  abiding, 

I  feel  that  all  is  well ; 
Within  Thy  love  for  ever  hiding. 

Who  can  my  gladness  tell  ? 

True  Light  of  light,  for  ever  shining, 

I  hail  Thy  happy  ray ; 
Bright  Sun  of  suns,  still  undeclining, 

'Tis  Thou  who  mak'st  my  day  ! 
Without  Thee  life  and  time  are  sadness. 

No  fragrance  breathes  around  ; 
But  with  Thee  even  grief  is  gladness, 

My  heart  its  home  hath  found. 

In  Thee  my  soul  is  sweetly  resting. 

My  hand  takes  hold  of  Thine  ; 
My  hope  is  ever  upward  hasting,  — 

And  Thou,  and  Thou,  art  mine  ! 
My  refuge  from  each  storm  that  rages, 

From  wind  and  wave  and  war. 
My  home  throughout  eternal  ages, 

Above  yon  sparkling  star  ! 

My  hope,  my  joy,  my  peace,  my  glory, 

My  first,  my  last,  my  all, 
Great  theme  of  the  unending  story 

In  yon  celestial  hall ! 
Great  theme  above  of  song  and  wonder 

In  ages  yet  to  come. 
True  theme  below  while  here  we  wander, 

Alas,  how  cold  and  dumb  ! 


LORD  !    LET    MY    HEART. 


LORD!   LET  MY   HEART. 


<•    . 

r^ 

") 

573 

> 

Lady  Powerscourt.     From  Savile's  Lyra  Sacra,  third  ed.,  Lond.  1865. 


T    ORD  !  let  my  heart  still  turn  to  Thee, 

In  all  my  hours  of  waking  thought, 
Nor  let  this  heart  e'er  wish  to  flee. 

Or  think,  or  feel,  where  Thou  art  not. 

In  every  hour  of  pain  and  woe, 

When  nought  on  earth  this  heart  can  cheer, 
When  sighs  will  burst  and  tears  will  flow. 

Lord,  hush  the  sigh  and  chase  the  tear.^ 

In  every  dream  of  earthly  bliss, 
Do  Thou,  dear  Jesus,  present  be  ; 

Nor  let  a  thought  of  happiness 

On  earth  intrude,  apart  from  Thee  ! 

To  my  last  lingering  thought  at  night. 
Do  Thou,  Lord  Jesus,  still  be  near ; 

And  ere  the  dawn  of  opening  light 
In  still  small  accents  wake  mine  ear. 

Whene'er  I  read  Thy  sacred  word, 
Bright  on  the  page  in  glory  shine  ; 

And  let  me  say,  "This  precious  Lord 
In  all  His  full  salvation's  mine." 


n  ^ 


574  UNION   WITH    CHRIST. 

And  when  before  the  throne  I  kneel, 

Hear  from  that  throne  of  grace  my  prayer, 

And  let  each  hope  of  heaven  I  feel 

Burn  with  the  thought  to  meet  Thee  there. 

Thus  teach  me,  Lord,  to  look  to  Thee 
In  every  hour  of  waking  thought ; 

Nor  let  me  ever  wish  to  be, 

Or  think,  or  feel,  where  Thou  art  not. 


THAT  MYSTIC  WORD   OF  THINE. 


The  soul's  answer  to  the  words  of  Christ :  "  Abide  in  Me,  and  I  in  you "  (John 
XV.  4).  By  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowb.  From  her  Religious  Poems,  p.  30, 
Boston,  1867,  with  an  additional  verse. 


'npHAT  mystic  word  of  Thine,  O  sovereign  Lord, 

■^    Is  all  too  pure,  too  high,  too  deep  for  me ; 
Weary  of  striving,  and  with  longing  faint, 
I  breathe  it  back  again  in  prayer  to  Thee. 

Abide  in  me,  I  pray,  and  I  in  Thee ! 

From  this  good  hour,  O,  leave  me  nevermore ! 
Then  shall  the  discord  cease,  the  wound  be  healed, 

The  life-long  bleeding  of  the  soul  be  o'er. 

Abide  in  me  ;  o'ershadow  by  Thy  love 

Each  half-formed  purpose  and  dark  thought  of  sin ; 
Quench,  e'er  it  rise,  each  selfish,  low  desire, 

And  keep  my  soul  as  Thine,  calm  and  divine. 


D 


STILL,    STILL  WITH   THEE. 


575 


As  some  rare  perfume  in  a  vase  of  clay 
Pervades  it  with  a  fragrance  not  its  own, 

So,  when  Thou  dwellest  in  a  mortal  soul, 

All  heaven's  own  sweetness  seems  around  it  thrown. 

The  soul  alone,  like  a  neglected  harp. 

Grows  out  of  tune,  and  needs  that  Hand  divine : 

Dwell  Thou  within  it,  tune  and  touch  the  chords. 
Till  every  note  and  string  shall  answer  Thine. ^ 

Abide  in  me  :  there  have  been  moments  blest, 
When  I  have  heard  Thy  voice  and  felt  Thy  power ; 

Then  evil  lost  its  grasp  ;  and  passion,  hushed. 
Owned  the  divine  enchantment  of  the  hour. 

These  were  but  seasons,  beautiful  and  rare  ; 

Abide  in  me,  and  they  shall  ever  be ; 
Fulfil  at  once  Thy  precept  and  my  prayer, 

Come,  and  abide  in  me,  and  I  in  Thee. 


^  STILL,   STILL  WITH  THEE. 

"  When  I  awake,  I  am  still  with  Thee."    By  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe, 
Religious  Poems,  p.  88,  Boston,  1867. 


OTILL,   still  with  Thee,  when  purple  morning 
*^    breaketh, 

When  the  bird  waketh,  and  the  shadows  flee  ; 

*  This  verse,  though  omitted  in  the  volume  of  Mrs.  Stowe's 
collected  Poems,  and  in  the  Plymouth  Collection,  belongs  to  the 
poem  as  originally  written.  So  the  authoress  informed  the  Edi- 
tor, in  response  to  an  inquiry,  Sept.  11,  1868,  in  which  she  kindly 
permits  him  to  use  several  of  her  compositions,  as  "  attempts  at 
that  great  harmony  in  which  one  day  all  shall  be  one." 


ft 


576  UNION    WITH    CHRIST. 

Fairer  than  morning,  lovelier  than  the  daylight, 
Dawns  the  sweet  consciousness,  I  am  with  Thee  ! 

Alone  with  Thee,  amid  the  mystic  shadows, 
The  solemn  hush  of  nature  newly  born  ; 

Alone  with  Thee  in  breatliless  adoration, 
In  the  calm  dew  and  freshness  of  the  morn. 

As  in  the  dawning  o'er  the  waveless  ocean 
The  image  of  the  morning  star  doth  rest. 

So  in  this  stillness  Thou  beholdest  only 
Thine  image  in  the  waters  of  my  breast. 

Still,  still  with  Thee  !  as  to  each  new-born  mornmg 
A  fresh  and  solemn  splendor  still  is  given, 

So  doth  this  blessed  consciousness,  awaking. 

Breathe,  each  day,  nearness  unto  Thee  and  heaven. 

When  sinks  the  soul,  subdued  by  toil,  to  slumber, 
Its  closing  eye  looks  up  to  Thee  in  prayer ; 

Sweet  the  repose  beneath  the  wings  o'ershading, 
But  sweeter  still  to  wake,  and  find  Thee  there. 

So  shall  it  be  at  last,  in  that  bright  morning 
When  the  soul  waketh  and  life's  sliadows  flee ; 

O,  in  that  hour,  fairer  than  daylight  dawning. 
Shall  rise  the  glorious  thought,  I  am  with  Thee  ! 


& 


JESUS  !    I    LIVE    TO    THEE.  577 


JESUS!    I   LIVE  TO  THEE. 


By  Dr.  Henry  Harbaugh,  Professor  of  Theology,  at  Mercersburg,  Pa. ;  b.  181S; 
d.  Dec.  27,  1867,  in  the  midst  of  his  strength  and  usefulness.  His  last  intelligible 
words,  on  waking  from  a  slumber,  were :  "  You  have  called  me  back  from  the  golden 
gates,  from  the  verge  of  my  heavenly  home."  Rom,  xiv.  8:  "Whether  we  live,  we 
live  unto  the  Lord ;  and  whether  we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord.  Whether  we  live, 
therefore,  or  die,  we  are  the  Lord's." 


JESUS  !  I  live  to  Thee, 
^    The  loveliest  and  best ! 
My  life  in  Thee,  Thy  life  in  me, 
In  Thy  blest  love  I  rest. 

Jesus  !  I  die  to  Thee, 

Whenever  death  shall  come ; 
To  die  in  Thee  is  life  to  me, 

In  my  eternal  home. 

Whether  to  live  or  die, 
I  know  not  which  is  best ; 

To  live  in  Thee  is  bliss  to  me, 
To  die  is  endless  rest. 

Living  or  dying,  Lord, 
I  ask  but  to  be  Thine  : 

My 'life  in  Thee,  Thy  life  in  me. 

Makes  heaven  for  ever  mine. 

37 


U 


578  UNION   WITH   CHRIST. 


O  BLESSED  LORD! 


"Far  off,  yet  near."    By  A.  D.  F.  Randolph;  b.  1820;  publisher  and  bookseller 
in  New  York ;  written  1864,  published  1868. 


r\  BLESSED  Lord ! 

^^  Once  more,  as  at  the  opening  of  the  day, 

I  read  Thy  word  ; 
And  now,  in  all  I  read,  I  hear  Thee  say, 
"To  those  who  love,  I  will  be  ever  near ;  " 

And  yet,  while  this  I  hear, 
To  me,  -O  Lord,  Thou  seemest  far  away  ! 

Thou  Sovereign  One, 
Greater  than  mightiest  kings,  can  it  be  fear 

Or  blinding  sun 
Made  by  Thy  glory,  so  if  Thou  art  here 
I  cannot  see  Thee  ;  yet  this  Word  declares 

That  whoso  loves  and  bears 
Thy  Holy  Name,  shall  have  Thee  ever  near  I 

I  bear  Thy  name  : 
That  love,  dear  Lord,  have  I  not  long  confessed? 

Thy  love's  the  same. 
As  when,  like  John,  I  leaned  upon  Thy  breast, 
And  knew  I  loved ;  oh,  which  of  us  has  changed? 

Am  I  from  Thee  estranged? 
O  Lord,  Thou  changest  not :  I  know  the  rest ! 


U 


O    BLESSED    LORD  !  579 

My  doubting  heart 
Trembles  with  its  own  weakness,  and  afraid 

I  dwell  apart 
From  Thee,  on  whom  alone  my  hope  is  stayed  : 
I  would,  and  yet  I  do  not  know  Thy  will 

And  perfect  love  ;  am  still 
Trusting  myself,  to  be  by  self  betrayed. 

O  blessed  Lord  ! 
Far  off,  yet  near,  on  me  new  grace  bestow 

As  on  Thy  Word 
I  go  to  meet  Thee  ;  even  now  I  know 
Thou  nearer  art  than  when  my  quest  began  ; 

One  cry,  and  Thy  feet  ran 
To  meet  me ;  Lord,  I  will  not  let  Thee  go  ! 


THE    HOLY   COMMUNION. 


"  I  AM  the  living  Bread  which  came  down  from  heaven :  if  any  man  eat  of  this 
Bread  he  shall  live  for  ever."  —  John  vi.  51. 

"The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin."  —  1  John  i.  7. 

"Take,  eat:  this  is  My  body."  —  Matt.  xxvi.  26. 

"  The  cup  of  blessing  which  we  bless,  is  it  not  the  communion  of  the  blood  of 
Christ?  The  bread  which  we  break,  is  it  not  the  communion  of  the  body  of  Christ? " 
—  I  Cor.  X.  16. 

OLORD  JESUS  CHRIST,  who  didst  ordain,  in  the  blessed 
sacrament,  a  perpetual  memorial  of  Thy  bitter  passion  and- 
atoning  death,  and  dost  invite  us.  to  Thy  table,  that  our  souls 
may  be  nourished  by  Thee,  the  Bread  of  eternal  life  :  grant  unto 
us,  we  beseech  Thee,  such  faith  in  Thy  promise,  and  such  discern- 
ment of  Thy  holy  mysteries,  that  we  may  receive  the  full  fruition 
of  Thy  redeeming  love,  and  attain  at  last,  with  all  saints,  to  the 
marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb,  in  the  kingdom  of  glory  above, 
where  Thou  livest  and  reignest,  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy 
Ghost,  one  God,  world  without  end.     Amen. 


"  Pangoe,  lingua,  gloriosi 
Corporis  mysterium, 
Sanguinisque  pretiosi, 

Quern  in  mundi  pretium 
Fructus  ventris  generosi. 
Rex  effudit  gentium." 

Thomas  Aquinas.    1274. 

"  O  QUAM  sanctus  panis  iste  I 
Tu  solus  es,  Jesu  Christk, 
Caro,  cibus,  sacramentum, 
Quo  non  maius  est  inventum. 

Salutare  medicamen, 
Peccatorum  relevamen, 
Pasce  nos,  a  malis  leva, 
Due  nos,  ubi  est  lux  Tua." 
From  JoANNis  Hussi  Carmen  de  Cmna  Sacra  (Daniel,  II.  370). 


'  Here,  in  figure  represented, 

See  the  Passion  once  again  ; 
Here  behold  the  Lamb  most  Holy, 

As  for  our  redemption  slain ; 
Here  the  Saviour's  Body,  broken, 

Here  the  Blood  which  Jesus  shed. 
Mystic  Food  of  life  eternal, 

See  for  our  refreshment  spread. 
Here  shall  highest  praise  be  offered, 

Here  shall  meekest  prayers  be  poured ; 
Here,  with  body,  soul,  and  spirit, 

God  Incarnate  be  adored. 
Holy  Jesu  1  for  Thy  coming 

May  Thy  love  our  hearts  prepare ; 
Thine  vre  fain  would  have  them  wholly ; 

Enter,  Lord,  and  tarry  there." 

From  J.  W.  Hewett.  1865. 


-5j 


THE   HOLY  COMMUNION. 


O  LAMB   OF  GOD  WHO,  BLEEDING. 

(O  Lamm  Gottes  unschuldtg.') 


A  popular  German  communion-hymn  of  Nikolaus  Decius,  written  1523  ;  based 
on  John  i.  29,  and  upon  the  old  Latin  maSs-song,  "Agnus  Dei  qui  tollis  peccata 
mundi,  miserere  nobis"  (Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  107).  Translated  by  Prof.  Thomas 
C.  Porter,  Easton,  Pa. 


r\  LAMB  of  God  who,  bleeding, 
^~^  Upon  the  cross  didst  languish, 
Nor  scorn  nor  malice  heeding. 

So  patient  in  Thine  anguish. 
On  Thee  our  guilt  was  lying ; 
Thou  savedst  us  by  dying  : 

Have  mercy  on  us.  Lord  Jesus  !  ^ 

^  "  O  Lamm  Gottes  unschuldig, 

Am  Stamm  des  Kreuzes  geschlachtet, 

Allzeit  funden  geduldig, 

Wiewohl  Du  warst  verachtet, 

Air  Siind'  hast  Du  getragen ; 

Sonst  miissten  wir  verzagen  : 
Erbarm'  Dich  unser,  o  Jesu !  " 


584 


THE    HOLY    COMMUNION. 

SING,   MY  TONGUE. 

{Pange,  lingua,  gloriosi  corporis  myS'terium.') 


St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  the  greatest  divine  of  the  Middle  Ages,  called  the  "  Angelic 
Doctor;"  d.  1274,  4S  years  old,  on  a  journey  from  Paris  to  Lyons.  Daniel,  I.  251 ; 
Wackernagel,  I.  145.  This  is  the  shorter  of  his  two  famous  eucharistic  hymns 
(the  other  being  "  Lauda,  Sion,  Salvatorem,"  in  Daniel,  II.  97),  which  are  used  in 
the  Roman-Catholic  Church  on  the  feast  of  Corpus  Christi  and  in  solemn  masses. 
Although  it  strongly  savors  of  transubstantiation  (ver.  4),  it  could  not  be  omitted  in  this 
Collection.  It  "  contests  the  second  place,  among  the  hymns  of  the  Western  Church, 
with  the  Vexilla  Regis,  the  Stabat  Mater,  the  Jesu  dulcis  Memoria,  and  a  few  others, 
leaving  the  Dies  Irce  in  its  unapproachable  glory  "  (Neale).  The  translation  is  based 
upon  that  of  Dr.  Neale  (Mediaval  Hyintts,  p.  178),  which  commences:  "Of  the 
glorious  Body  telling,"  and  which,  with  various  modifications,  has  passed  into  some 
recent  Anglican  hymn-books,  as  the  Hymns  Aticient  and  Modern,  No.  203,  and 
The  PeopWs  Hymnal,  No.  166.  There  are  other  translations,  by  Dr.  PusEY,  Wack- 
ERBARTH,  Caswall,  Erastus  C.  BENEDICT,  &c.  The  "  Lauda,  Sion,  Salvatorem  " 
(which  we  must  omit,  on  account  of  its  length)  has  also  been  repeatedly  rendered  into 
German  and  English,  more  recently  by  E.  C.  Benedict  (in  the  Hymn  of  Hildebert, 
&c..  New  York,  1868,  p.  93).  Neale  (I.e.  p.  176)  gives  aversion  of  a  third  eucha- 
ristic hymn  of  St.  Thomas:  "  Adoro  Te  devote,  latens  Deltas,"  which  was  never  in 
public  use.     I  quote  from  it  the  following  verse  :  — 

"  O  most  sweet  memorial  of  His  death  and  woe, 
Living  Bread,  which  givest  life  to  man  below, 
Let  my  spirit  ever  eat  of  Thee,  and  live, 
And  the  blest  fruition  of  Thy  sweetness  give  I " 


OING,  my  tongue,  the  mystery  telling, 
^^    Of  the  glorious  Body  sing, 
And  the  Blood,  all  price  excelling, 

Which  the  world's  eternal  King, 
In  a  noble  womb  once  dwelling. 

Shed  for  this  world's  ransoming. 

Of  a  Virgin  condescending 
To  be  born  for  us  below. 


r 


SING,    MY   TONGUE.  585 

He,  with  men  in  converse  blending, 

Dwelt  the  seed  of  truth  to  sow ; 
Then  He  closed,  with  wondrous  ending, 

His  appointed  course  of  woe. 

At  the  last  Great  Supper  lying, 

Circled  by  His  chosen  band, 
Jesus,  with  the  law  complying. 

Meekly  finished  its  command  ; 
Then,  immortal  food  supplying, 

Gave  Himself  with  His  own  hand. 

God  incarnate,  bread  He  maketh 

By  His  word  His  flesh  to  be ; 
Who  by  faith  that  cup  partaketh. 

Tastes  the  Blood  of  Calvary  : 
Though  the  carnal  sense  forsaketh. 

Faith  beholds  the  mystery. ^ 


1  This  stanza  must,  of  course,  be  taken  with  considerable  al- 
lowance by  the  Protestant  reader.  I  have  taken  some  liberty, 
and  inserted  "by  faith,"  which  is  not  in  the  original.  It  has 
severely  tried  the  skill  of  translators.  See  the  interesting  note 
in  Neale,  pp.  180,  181.  I  append  the  Latin,  with  the  two  closest 
versions :  — 

"  Verbum  caro,  panem  verum  verbo  camem  efficit, 
Fitque  sanguis  Christi  merum ;  etsi  sensus  deficit, 
Ad  firmandum  cor  sincerum  sola  fides  sufficit." 

Caswall :  Neale : 

"  Word  made  Flesh,  the  bread  of  nature  "  Word  made  Flesh,  by  Word  He  maketh 

By  His  word  to  Flesh  He  turns ;  Very  Bread  His  Flesh  to  be ; 

Wine  into  His  Blood  He  changes :  Man  in  wine  Christ's  Blood  partaketh ; 

What  though  sense  no  change  discerns?  And,  if  senses  fail  to  see, 

Only  be  the  heart  in  earnest,  Faith  alone  the  true  heart  waketh 

Faith  her  lesson  quickly  learns  "  To  behold  the  Mystery." 


D 


fl 


586 


THE    HOLY    COMMUNION. 


Therefore  at  the  altar  bending, 
We  this  sacrament  revere, 

Ancient  shadows  have  their  ending. 
Where  the  substance  doth  appear ; 

Faith,  her  aid  to  vision  lending, 
Tells  that  Christ  unseen  is  here. 

Glory  let  us  give,  and  blessing 
To  the  Father  and  the  Son ; 

Honor,  might,  and  praise  addressing, 
While  eternal  ages  run  ; 

Holy  Ghost,  from  both  progressing. 
Equal  praise  to  Thee  be  done ! 


In  "  Lauda,  Sion,  Salvatorem,"  Thomas  AquiNAS  expresses, 
with  equal  clearness,  his  belief  in  the  mystery  of  the  real  pres- 
ence, which  Protestants  can  adopt  only  in  a  spiritual  (though 
none  the  less  real)  sense,  and  divested  of  all  materialistic  concep- 
tions Qohn  vi.  63)  :  — 


'  Dogma  datur  Christianis, 
Quod  in  camem  transit  panis, 

Et  vinum  in  sanguinem. 
Quod  non  capis,  quod  non  vides, 
Animosa  firmat  fides, 

Prater  rerum  ordinem. 

A  sumente  non  concisus, 
Non  confractus,  non  divisus, 

Integer  accipitur. 
Surait  unus,  sumunt  mille, 
Quantum  isti,  tantum  ille, 

Nee  sumptus  consumitur." 


'  Wondrous  truth  to  Christians  given, 
Bread  becomes  His  Flesh  from  heaven, 

To  His  Blood  is  turned  the  Wine. 
Sight  hath  failed,  nor  thought  conceiveth ; 
But  a  dauntless  faith  believeth, 

Resting  on  a  power  Divine. 

Whoso  of  this  Food  partaketh 
Rendeth  not  the  Lord,  norbreaketh: 

Christ  is  whole  to  all  that  taste. 
Thousands  are,  as  one,  receivers ; 
One,  as  thousands  of  believers. 

Eats  of  Him  who  cannot  waste." 


D 


n 

—3 


SING,    AND    THE    MYSTERY    DECLARE.  587 


SING,   AND  THE  MYSTERY  DECLARE. 

{Pange,  lingua,  gloriosi.) 


Another  version,  or  transfusion  rather,  of  the  preceding  hymn  of  Thomas  Aqui- 
KAS,  kindly  prepared  for  this  Collection  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ray  Palmer,  New  York, 
Aug.  19,  1868. 


OING,  and  the  mystery  declare  ; 
*^    Sing  of  the  glorious  Body  slain  ; 
And  of  the  Blood  beyond  compare, — 

Price  of  the  world,  —  that  not  in  vain 
He,  sole  of  men  pure  born,  hath  shed; 
He,  of  the  nations  King  and  Head. 

To  us  was  born  the  Christ  of  God ; 

A  Virgin's  Son  to  us  was  given ; 
And,  while  the  earth  His  footsteps  trod, 

Abroad  He  sowed  the  seed  of  heaven ; 
Then,  when  drew  near  His  destined  hour, 
Ordained  this  rite  of  wondrous  power. 

'Twas  on  the  last  night  of  the  feast. 
Reclining  with  His  faithful  few. 

Of  ancient  laws,  e'en  to  the  least, 
Each  word  obeyed  with  service  true , 

Himself  He  gave  with  His  own  hand 

The  Bread  of  Life  to  all  the  band. 


588  THE    HOLY    COMMUNION. 

The  incarnate  Word,  in  broken  bread, 
His  body  broken  there  did  show ; 

And  in  the  wine  His  blood,  once  shed 
From  guilt  to  cleanse,  to  save  from  woe ; 

Where  falters  sense,  faith  trusts  His  word, 

And  souls  sincere  receive  the  Lord.^ 

Before  this  noblest  sacrifice, 

In  reverent  love  we  lowly  bow ; 
No  more  the  appointed  victim  dies. 

But  shadow  yields  to  substance  now  ; 
While  faith,  that  want  of  sight  supplies, 
Lifts  to  the  Cross  her  trustful  eyes  ! 

Now  to  the  Father  and  the  Son, 
And  Spirit  sent  by  each,  shall  be 

All  worship,  honor,  homage  done, 
By  all  that  live,  eternally  ; 

Unto  the  Three  in  One  be  given 

An  equal  praise,  in  earth  and  heaven. 

I  Here  the  doctrinal  difficulty  of  the  original  is  happily  over- 
come :  the  form  is  changed,  but  the  substance  (i.e.  the  spiritual 
real  presence,  and  the  spiritual  real  fruition  of  the  Lord  by  faith) 
remains,  and  should  never  be  exchanged  for  the  jejune  and  ra- 
tionalistic notion  of  a  purely  figurative  presence  of  Christ  in  the 
ordinances  of  His  own  appointment.  He  is  the  Head  of  the 
Church,  "which  is  His  body,  the  fulness  of  Him  that  filleth  all 
in  all,"  and  has  solemnly  pledged  His  presence  to  the  end  of  the 
world. 


O  BREAD  OF  LIFE  FROM  HEAVEN  !     589 

O   BREAD   OF  LIFE  FROM   HEAVEN! 

(O  esca  viatorum,  O  funis  angelorum^  O  manna  ccelilum.^ 


From  an  anonymous  mediaeval  hymn,  De  Sanctissimo  Sacramento,  in  Daniel, 
II.  369.  A  less  literal  version,  by  Dr.  Ray  Palmer,  "  O  Bread  to  pilgrims  given  " 
(in  the  Andover  Sabbath  Hymn-Book,  No.  1051,  where  the  original  is,  without  good 
reason,  ascribed  to  Thomas  Aquinas).  Another  in  Shipley's  Lyra  Eucharistica 
(p.  174),  "  O  Food  that  weary  pilgrims  love  ! " 


r\  BREAD  of  Life  from  heaven 
^-^    To  saints  and  angels  given, 

O  Manna  from  above  ! 
The  souls  that  hunger  feed  Thou, 
The  hearts  that  seek  Thee  lead  Thou, 

With  Thy  sweet,  tender  love. 

O  Fount  of  grace  redeeming, 
O  River  ever  streaming 

From  Jesu's  holy  side  ! 
Come  Thou,  Thyself  bestowing 
On  thirsting  souls,  and  flowing 

Till  all  are  satisfied. 

Jesu,  this  feast  receiving. 
Thy  word  of  truth  believing, 
We  Thee  unseen  adore  ; 


590  THE    HOLY   COMMUNION. 

Grant,  when  the  veil  is  rended, 

That  we,  to  heaven  ascended, 

May  see  Thee  evermore.^ 


DECK  THYSELF,   MY  SOUL. 

{Schmucke  dich,  o  liebe  Seele.') 


JoHANN  Frank  (a  lawyer;  d.,  at  Guben,  Prussia,  1677).  1650.  One  of  the  rich- 
est German  communion-hymns,  Schaff,  G.  H.  B.,  No.  262.  Translated  by  C.  Wink- 
worth  {Lyra  Germ.,  M.  133). 


T^ECK   thyself,  my  soul,  with  gladness; 
■^'^    Leave  the  gloomy  haunts  of  sadness, 
Come  into  the  daylight's  splendor ; 
There  with  joy  thy  praises  render 
Unto  Him,  whose  boundless  grace 
Grants  thee  at  His  feast  a  place  ; 
He  whom  all  the  heavens  obey 
Deigns  to  dwell  in  thee  to-day. 

Hasten  as  a  bride  to  meet  Him, 
And  with  loving  reverence  greet  Him, 
Who  with  words  of  life  immortal 
Now  is  knocking  at  thy  portal ; 


*  "  O  Jesu,  tuum  vultum, 
Quem  colimus  occultum 

Sub  panis  specie, 
Fac,  ut,  remoto  velo, 
Aperta  nos  in  coelo 

Cernaraus  acie." 


&> 


DECK   THYSELF,    MY   SOUL.  59I 

Haste  to  make  for  Him  a  way, 
Cast  thee  at  His  feet,  and  say  : 
Since,  O  Lord  !  Thou  com'st  to  me. 
Never  will  I  turn  from  Thee. 

Ah,  how  hungers  all  my  spirit. 
For  the  love  I  do  not  merit ! 
Ah,  how  oft  with  sighs  fast  thronging 
For  this  food  have  I  been  longing ! 
How  have  thirsted  in  the  strife 
For  this  draught,  O  Prince  of  Life  ! 
Wished,  O  Friend  of  man  !  to  be 
Ever  one  with  God  through  Thee  ! 

Here  I  sink  before  Thee,  lowly. 
Filled  with  joy  most  deep  and  holy, 
As  with  trembling  awe  and  wonder 
On  Thy  mighty  works  I  ponder ; 
On  this  banquet's  mystery. 
On  the  depths  we  cannot  see ; 
Far  beyond  all  mortal  sight 
Lie  the  secrets  of  Thy  might. 

Sun,  who  all  my  life  dost  brighten, 
Light,  who  dost  my  soul  enlighten, 
Joy,  the  sweetest  man  e'er  knoweth. 
Fount,  whence  all  my  being  floweth  ! 
Here  I  fall  before  Thy  feet : 
Grant  me  worthily  to  eat 
Of  this  blessed  heavenly  food. 
To  Thy  praise  and  to  my  good. 


592  THE    HOLY   COMMUNION. 

Jesus,  Bread  of  Life  from  Heaven, 
Never  be  Thou  vainly  given, 
Nor  I  to  my  hurt  invited ; 
Be  Thy  love  with  love  requited ; 
Let  me  learn  its  depths  indeed, 
While  on  Thee  my  soul  doth  feed ; 
Let  me  here,  so  richly  blest. 
Be  hereafter,  too.  Thy  guest. 


SUFFERING  SAVIOUR,   LAMB   OF   GOD. 


Anonymous.     From  an  old  hymn-book. 


BUFFERING  Saviour,  Lamb  of  God, 
*^    How  hast  Thou  been  used  ! 
With  the  Almighty's  wrathful  rod 
Soul  and  body  bruised  ! 

We,  for  whom  Thou  once  wast  slain. 
We,  whose  sins  did  pierce  Thee, 

Now  commemorate  Thy  pain, 
And  implore  Thy  mercy. 

We  would  with  Thee  sympathize 

In  Thy  bitter  passion  ; 
With  soft  hearts  and  weeping  eyes 

See  Thy  great  salvation. 


nj 


SUFFERING   SAVIOUR,    LAMB    OF   GOD.  S93 

Thine's  an  everlasting  love  : 

We  have  dearly  tried  Thee. 
Whom  have  we  in  heaven  above, 

Whom  on  earth,  beside  Thee? 

What  can  helpless  sinners  do, 

When  temptations  seize  us? 
Nought  have  we  to  look  unto 

But  the  blood  of  Jesus. 

Pardon  all  our  baseness.  Lord, 

All  our  weakness  pity ; 
Guide  us  safely  by  Thy  word 

To  the  heavenly  city. 

Oh  !  sustain  us  on  the  road 

Through  this  desert  dreary  ; 
Feed  us  with  Thy  flesh  and  blood. 

When  we're  faint  and  weary. 

Bid  us  call  to  mind  Thy  cross 

Our  hard  hearts  to  soften ; 
Often,  Saviour,  feed  us  thus ; 

For  we  need  it  often. 


38 


594 


THE    HOLY   COMMUNION. 


'TWAS   ON  THAT  DARK  NIGHT. 


By  Dr.  Isaac  Watts;  b.  at  Southampton,  1674;  d.  in  London,  1748.     i  Cor. 
xi.  23.     The  hymn  has  seven  verses,  but  verses  four  and  five  are  usually  omitted. 


'^pWAS  on  that  dark,  that  doleful  night, 
•^    When  powers  of  earth  and  hell  arose 
Against  the  Son  of  God's  delight, 

And  friends  betrayed  Him  to  His  foes  : 

Before  the  mournful  scene  began. 

He  took  the  bread,  and  blessed  and  brake ; 
What  love  through  all  His  actions  ran ! 

What  wondrous  words  of  grace  He  spake  ! 

"This  is  My  Body,  broke  for  sin ; 

Receive  and  eat  the  living  food." 
Then  took  the  cup  and  blessed  the  wine  : 
"This  the  new  covenant  in  My  Blood. 

"  Do  this,"  He  cried,  "  till  time  shall  end, 
In  memory  of  your  dying  Friend ; 

Meet  at  My  Table,  and  record 
The  love  of  your  departed  Lord." 

Jesus  !  Thy  feast  we  celebrate  ; 

We  show  Thy  death,  we  sing  Thy  name. 
Till  Thou  return,  and  we  shall  eat 

The  marriage  Supper  of  the  Lamb. 


BODY    OF  JESUS,    O   SWEET   FOOD  I  595 


IN  MEMORY  OF  THE  SAVIOUR'S   LOVE. 


Anonymous  [1843].     From  Sir  R.  Palmer's  Book  of  Praise,  No.  CCXCIII. 


TN  memory  of  the  Saviour's  love, 
■*■   We  keep  the  sacred  feast, 
Where  every  humble  contrite  heart 
Is  made  a  welcome  guest. 

By  faith  we  take  the  Bread  of  Life, 
With  which  our  souls  are  fed ; 

The  Cup,  in  token  of  His  Blood 
That  was  for  sinners  shed. 

Under  His  banner  thus  we  sing 
The  wonders  of  His  love, 

And  thus  anticipate  by  faith 
The  heavenly  feast  above. 


BODY  OF  JESUS,   O   SWEET  FOOD! 


By  A.  C.  CoxE,  D.D. ;  b.  1818 ;  bishop  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  diocese  of 
Western  New  York.  This  piece  was  written  in  1858,  at  St.  James's  College,  Maryland 
(which  was  broken  up,  by  the  civil  war,  in  1864),  and  printed  on  a  slip  of  paper,  with 
the  text,  "  Arise  and  eat,  because  the  journey  is  too  great  for  thee  "  (i  Kings  xix.  7). 


"D  ODY  of  Jesus,  O  sweet  food  ! 
■*-^    Blood  of  my  Saviour,  precious  Blood  ! 
On  these  Thy  gifts.  Eternal  Priest, 
Grant  Thou  my  soul  in  faith  to  feast. 


^^6  THE    HOLY    COMMUNION. 

Weary  and  faint  I  thirst  and  pine 
For  Thee  my  Bread,  for  Thee  my  Wine, 
Till  strengthened,  as  Elijah  trod, 
I  journey  to  the  mount  of  God. 

There  clad  in  white,  with  crown  and  palm, 
At  the  great  Supper  of  the  Lamb, 
Be  mine  with  all  Thy  saints  to  rest. 
Like  him  that  leaned  upon  Thy  breast. 

Saviour,  till  then,  I  fain  would  know 
That  feast  above  by  this  below, 
This  Bread  of  Life,  this  wondrous  food. 
Thy  Body  and  Thy  precious  Blood. 


O   GOD,   UNSEEN  YET  EVER  NEAR  I 


Anonymous  [1836].     From  Sir  R.  Palmer's  Book  of  Praise,  No.  294.     Also  in 
Hymns  Attcient  and  Modem,  London,  No.  207. 


/^  GOD,  unseen,  yet  ever  near, 
^^    Thy  presence  may  we  feel ! 
And  thus,  inspired  with  holy  fear, 
Before  Thine  altar  kneel. 

Here  may  Thy  faithful  people  know 

The  blessings  of  Thy  love, 
The  streams  that  through  the  desert  flow. 

The  manna  from  above. 


JESU,   TO  THY  TABLE   LED. 


& 


JESU,    TO    THY    TABLE    LED.  597 

We  come,  obedient  to  Thy  word. 

To  feast  on  heavenly  food ; 
Our  meat,  the  Body  of  the  Lord, 

Our  drink,  His  precious  Blood. 

Thus  may  we  all  Thy  words  obey, 

For  we,  O  God !  are  Thine ; 
And  go  rejoicing  on  our  way. 

Renewed  with  strength  divine. 

To  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 

The  God  whom  we  adore, 
Be  glory  as  it  was,  is  now, 

And  shall  be  evermore. 


The  Rev.  Robert  Hall  Baynes;  b.  at  Wellington,  Somerset,  England,  1831; 
studied  at  Oxford ;  editor  of  Lyra  Anglicana,  and  the  Canterbury  Hymnal.     1863. 


JESU,  to  Thy  Table  led, 
*^    Now  let  every  heart  be  fed 
With  the  true  and  living  Bread. 

While  in  penitence  we  kneel. 
Thy  sweet  presence  let  us  feel, 
All  Thy  wondrous  love  reveal ! 


598  THE    HOLY   COMMUNION. 

While  on  Thy  dear  cross  we  gaze, 
Mourning  o'er  our  sinful  ways, 
Turn  our  sadness  into  praise  ! 

When  we  taste  the  mystic  wine. 
Of  Thine  outpoured  blood  the  sign, 
Fill  our  hearts  with  love  divine  ! 

Draw  us  to  Thy  wounded  side, 
Whence  there  flowed  the  healing  tide  ; 
There  our  sins  and  sorrows  hide  I 

From  the  bonds  of  sin  release, 
Cold  and  wavering  faith  increase, 
Lamb  of  God,  grant  us  Thy  peace  ! 

Lead  us  by  Thy  piercdd  hand. 
Till  around  Thy  throne  we  stand, 
In  the  bright  and  better  land. 


BY  CHRIST  REDEEMED. 


I  Cor.  xi.  26:  "As  often  as  ye  eat  this  bread,  and  drink  this  cup,  ye  do  show  the 
Lord's  death  till  He  come."  Anonymous,  from  Shipley's  Lyra  Eucliaristica,  Loud. 
1863,  p.  249. 


T)  Y  Christ  redeemed,  in  Christ  restored, 
^-^    We  keep  the  memory  adored. 
And  show  the  death  of  our  dear  Lord, 
Until  He  come. 


\J 


c 


ft± 


n 


BY    CHRIST    REDEEMED.  599 

His  Body,  broken  in  our  stead, 
Is  here  in  this  Memorial  Bread ; 
And  so  our  feeble  love  is  fed, 
Until  He  come. 

His  fearful  drops  of  agony, 
His  life-blood  shed  for  us  we  see  : 
The  wine  shall  tell  the  mystery, 
Until  He  come. 

And  thus  that  dark  betrayal-night 
With  the  last  Advent  we  unite  — 
The  shame,  the  glory  —  by  this  rite, 
Until  He  come. 

Until  the  trump  of  God  be  heard. 
Until  the  ancient  graves  be  stirred. 
And  with  the  great,  commanding  word. 
The  Lord  shall  come. 

O  blessed  hope  !  with  this  elate, 
Let  not  our  hearts  be  desolate, 
But  strong  in  faith,  in  patience  wait, 
Until  He  come. 


600  THE    HOLY   COMMUNION. 

LO,  THE  FEAST  IS  SPREAD  TO-DAY! 


Dr.   Henry  Alford,  Dean  of  Canterbury.     1845.     From  his   Year  of  Praise, 
Lond.  1867,  No.  isa.  ___^_____ 

T    O,  the  feast  is  spread  to-day  ! 

-'-^  Jesus  summons,  come  away  ! 

From  the  vanity  of  life, 

From  the  sounds  of  mirth  or  strife. 

To  the  feast  by  Jesus  given, 

Come  and  taste  the  Bread  of  Heaven. 

Why,  with  proud  excuse  and  vain, 
Spurn  His  mercy  once  again? 
From  amidst  Hfe's  social  ties, 
From  the  farm  and  merchandise. 
Come,  for  all  is  now  prepared ; 
Freely  given,  be  freely  shared. 

Blessed  are  the  lips  that  taste 
Our  Redeemer's  marriage  feast ; 
Blessed  who  on  Him  shall  feed. 
Bread  of  Life,  and  drink  indeed. 
Blessed,  for  their  thirst  is  o'er. 
They  shall  never  hunger  more. 

Make,  then,  once  again  your  choice. 
Hear  to-day  His  calling  voice  ; 
Servants,  do  your  Master's  will ; 
Bidden  guests.  His  table  fill ; 
Come,  before  His  wrath  shall  swear : 
Ye  shall  never  enter  there. 


9 


LOVE  AND  GRATITUDE  TO  CHRIST. 


"  We  love  Him,  because  He  first  loved  us." — i  John  iv.  19. 

"  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us.  . .  .  He  died  for  all,  that  they  which  live 
should  not  henceforth  live  unto  themselves,  but  unto  Him  which  died  for  them,  and 
rose  again."  —  2  Cor.  v.  14,  15. 

O  BLESSED  SAVIOUR,  whose  love  to  sinners  passeth  the 
comprehension  of  men  and  of  angels,  and  will  be  tlje  theme 
of  grateful  praise  throughout  the  ages  of  eternity :  impress  upon 
us,  we  beseech  Thee,  such  a  deep  and  abiding  sense  of  our  in- 
debtedness for  Thy  great  salvation,  that  we  may  wholly  live  to 
Thy  glory,  and  serve  Thee  in  holiness  and  righteousness  all  our 
days,  until  we  join  in  the  songs  of  Thy  redeemed  army  in 
heaven  where,  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  Thou  art 
worshipped  and  glorified  world  without  end.    Amen. 

"  I  CANNOT  love  Thee  as  I  would, 
Yet  pardon  me,  O  Highest  Good  t 
My  life,  and  all  I  call  mine  own, 
I  lay  before  Thy  mercy-throne : 
And  if  a  thousand  lives  were  mine, 
O  sweetest  Lord  1  they  should  be  Thine ; 
And  scanty  would  the  offering  be, 
So  richly  hast  Thou  lov^d  me." 

From  the  German. 


tj 


D 


XAVIER'S   HYMN. 


O  Deus,  ego  amo  Te, 
Nee  arao  Te,  ut  salves  me, 
Aut  quia  non  amantes  Te 
iCtemo  punis  igne. 


Innumeros  dolores, 
Sudores,  et  angores, 
Ac  mortem,  et  haec  propter  me, 
Ac  pro  me  peccatore. 


Tu,  Tu,  mi  Jesu,  totum  me 
Am  plexus  es  in  cruce; 
Tulisti  clavos,  lanceam, 
Multamque  ignominiam. 


Cur  igitur  non  amem  Te, 
O  Jesu  amantissime  1 
Non,  wt  in  coelo  salves  me, 
Aut  ne  astemum  damnes  me ; 


Nee  praemii  uUius  spe 
Sed  slcut  Tu  amasti  me ; 
Sic  amo  et  amabo  Te, 
Solum,  quia  Rex  meus  es. 

Daniel,  II.  335. 


:z) 


a 


LOVE   AND    GRATITUDE    TO 
CHRIST. 


JESUS,  THOU  JOY  OF  LOVING  HEARTS  I 

(^yesuSf  dulcedo  cordium.) 


A  free  and  happy  transfasion  of  selected  stanzas  from  St.  Bernard's  "  Jesu  dulcis 
memoria,"  1153  (see  pp.  405-409),  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ray  Palmer,  prepared,  1858,  for 
the  Andover  Sabbath  Hymn-Book.  The  first  verse  corresponds  to  the  fourth  in  the 
Latin:  "Jesus,  dulcedo  cordium,  Fons  veri,  Lumen  mentium,"  &c.  Sir  R.  Palmer 
has  given  this  hymn  a  place  among  the  communion-hymns  in  his  collection  (No.  296), 
with  the  note,  "Anonymous  [i860].     From  St.  Bernard." 


JESUS,  Thou  Joy  of  loving  hearts  ! 
^    Thou  Fount  of  Life  !    Thou  Light  of  men  I 
From  the  best  bhss  that  earth  imparts, 
We  turn  unfilled  to  Thee  again. 

Thy  truth  unchanged  hath  ever  stood  ; 

Thou  savest  those  that  on  Thee  call ; 
To  them  that  seek  Thee,  Thou  art  good, 

To  them  that  find  Thee,  All  in  All ! 


U 


6o4  LOVE   AND    GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST. 

We  taste  Thee,  O  Thou  Living  Bread  ! 

And  long  to  feast  upon  Thee  still ; 
We  drink  of  Thee,  the  Fountain  Head, 

And  thirst  our  souls  from  Thee  to  fill. 

Our  restless  spirits  yearn  for  Thee, 
Where'er  our  changeful  lot  is  cast ; 

Glad  when  Thy  gracious  smile  we  see. 
Blest  when  our  faith  can  hold  Thee  fast. 

O  Jesus  I  ever  with  us  stay, 

Make  all  our  moments  calm  and  bright ; 
Chase  the  dark  night  of  sin  away. 

Shed  o'er  the  world  Thy  holy  light ! 


I   GIVE  MY   HEART  TO  THEE. 

(^Cor  meum  Tibi  dedo,  Jesu  dulcissitne.^ 


From  a  charming  Latin  poem,  of  uncertain  date  and  authorship,  in  Daniel's 
Thes.  II.  370,  freely  and  happily  reproduced  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ray  Palmer,  for  this 
Collection,  Aug.  20,  1868.     I  know  of  no  other  English  version. 


T  GIVE  my  heart  to  Thee, 
•*■    O  Jesus  most  desired  ! 
And  heart  for  heart  the  gift  shall  be, 
For  Thou  my  soul  hast  fired  : 
Thou  hearts  alone  would'st  move  ; 
Thou  only  hearts  dost  love. 
I  would  love  Thee  as  Thou  lov'st  me, 
O  Jesus  most  desired  ! 


I    GIVE    MY    HEART    TO    THEE.  605 

What  offering  can  I  make, 

Dear  Lord,  to  love  like  Thine? 
That  Thou,  the  God,  didst  stoop  to  take 
A  human  form  like  mine  ! 
"  Give  me  thy  heart,  My  son  :  " 
Behold  my  heart,  —  'tis  done  ! 
I  would  love  Thee  as  Thou  lov'st  me, 
O  Jesus  most  desired  I 

Thy  heart  is  opened  wide, 
Its  offered  love  most  free, 
That  heart  to  heart  I  may  abide, 
And  hide  myself  in  Thee  :  ^ 
Ah,  how  Thy  love  doth  burn, 
Till  I  that  love  return  ! 
I  would  love  Thee  as  Thou  lov'st  me, 
O  Jesus  most  desired  I 

Here  finds  my  heart  its  rest, 
Repose  that  knows  no  shock, 
The  strength  of  love  that  keeps  it  blest : 
In  Thee,  the  riven  Rock,  ^ 
My  soul,  as  girt  around, 
Her  citadel  hath  found. 
I  would  love  Thee  as  Thou  lov'st  me, 
O  Jesus  most  desired  ! 

^  Cor  Tuum  est  apertum  ut  intrem  libere, 
Ut  cordi  cor  insertum  condatur  intime." 

2  "In  petrae  hoc  foramine,"  an  allusion  to  Cant.  ii.  14,  in  its 
allegorical  sense;  to  which,  also.  Toplady's  "  Rock  of  ages,  cleft 


a 


606  LOVE   AND    GRATITUDE   TO    CHRIST. 

JESUS,  I  LOVE  THEE. 

(<?  Deus,  ego  amo  TV,  Nee  amo  Te  ut  salves  me.^ 


A  free  translation  of  the  "  Suspirium  amoris  "  of  Francis  Xavier,  "  the  apostle 
of  the  Indies;"  b.  in  Spain,  1506;  d.  in  China,  1552;  one  of  the  most  devoted  and 
successful  missionaries  of  the  Roman-Catholic  Church,  burning  with  the  love  of  Christ 
and  the  love  of  souls,  which  is  the  essence  of  true  piety,  whether  Catholic  or  Protestant. 
The  translation  is  substantially  that  of  E.  Caswall  {Lyra  Catholica,  p.  338) :  "  My 
God,  I  love  Thee,  —  not  because,"  with  a  few  changes  and  an  additional  verse.  The 
poem  was  written  in  Latin,  but  soon  translated  into  the  Spanish,  from  which  Diepen- 
brock's  German  version  (Daniel,  IV.  347)  was  made.  See  the  Latin  on  p.  602 ;  and 
in  Daniel,  II.  p.  335,  without  name,  —  the  authorship  of  Xavier  being  doubtful. 


^u  A-  J^»>^  ■ 


TESUS,  I  love  Thee,  —  not  because 

I  hope  for  heaven  thereby, 
Nor  yet  because,  if  I  love  not, 
I  must  for  ever  die. 

I  love  Thee,  Saviour  dear,  and  still 

I  ever  will  love  Thee, 
Solely  because  my  God  Thou  art. 

Who  first  hast  lov^  me. 


for  me,"  may  be  referred.  St.  Bernard  says:  "Foramina  petrze, 
vulnera  Christi."  In  the  anonymous  hymn,  "Ecquis  binas  colum- 
binas"  (Daniel,  II.  344;  Trench,  p.  150),  the  following  beau- 
tiful stanza  occurs :  — 

"  Et  profunde  me  reconde 
Intra  sacra  vulnera ; 
In  supemSl  me  cavemSl 

CoUoca  maceriae. 
Hie  viventi,  quiescenti 

Finis  est  miseriae." 


ft 


c — ' 


JESUS,    I   LOVE   THEE.  607 

For  me  to  lowest  depths  of  woe 

Thou  didst  Thyself  abase ; 
For  me  didst  bear  the  cross  and  shame 

And  manifold  disgrace. 

For  me  didst  suffer  pains  unknown, 

Blood-sweat  and  agony, 
Yea,  death  itself,  —  all,  all  for  me. 

Who  was  Thine  enemy. 

Then  why,  O  blessed  Saviour  mine  ! 

Should  I  not  love  Thee  well  ? 
Not  for  the  sake  of  winning  heaven. 

Nor  of  escaping  hell ; 

Not  with  the  hope  of  gaining  aught, 

Nor  seeking  a  reward,  — 
But  freely,  fully,  as  Thyself 

Hast  loved  me,  O  Lord  I 

Even  so  I  love  Thee  and  will  love. 

And  in  Thy  praise  will  sing ; 
Solely  because  Thou  art  my  God, 

And  my  eternal  King. 


tJ 


5                                                                                                 c 

^ 

> 

c 

608             LOVE   AND    GRATITUDE   TO    CHRIST. 

JESUS,   I   LOVE  THEE  EVERMORE. 

(O  Deus,  ego  amo  TV,  Nam  prior  Tu  amasii  tne.^ 

9 

From  an  anonymous  Latin  poem  in  Daniel,  II.  335,  similar  to  the  preceding 
one  of  Xavier,  translated  by  the  Hon.  E.  C.  Benedict,  New  York,  August,  1868. 
Contributed. 

TESUS,  I  love  Thee  evermore, 
^    For  Thou  hast  loved  me,  Lord,  before ; 
I  have  no  freedom  but  to  be 
A  willing  slave,  dear  Lord,  to  Thee. 

Let  memory,  then,  no  thought  retain, 
Except  the  glory  of  Thy  reign ; 
Nor  let  my  mind  desire  below 
Aught  but  the  love  of  Christ  to  know. 

I  cannot  have  a  wish  or  thought. 
Except  to  love  Thee  as  I  ought ; 
What,  by  Thy  gracious  gift,  is  mine, 
"With  joy  I  freely  make  it  Thine. 

c 

From  Thee  I  have,  to  Thee  I  give. 
In  Thy  commands,  oh,  let  me  live  ! 
My  wants  will  then  be  all  supplied, 
For  all  are  only  dreams  beside. 

> 

r 

) 

J 

ft 


c-^ 


O    LORD !    I    LOVE    THEE.  609 

O   LORD!    I   LOVE   THEE. 

(^Hcrzlich  lieb  hab  ich  Dick.,  o  Herr.) 


Martin  Schalling,  a  pupil  of  Melancthon,  and  pastor  in  the  Palatinate.  1571. 
Based  on  Ps.  iS  and  73 ;  a  favorite  hymn  of  Spener,  Gellert,  the  Duchess  of  Orleans 
(daughter  of  Louis  Philippe),  and  others.  Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  310.  Other  ver- 
sions, by  Mills  [Horn  Germ.,  p.  So):  "I  love  Thee,  Lord,  with  love  sincere;" 
C.  WiNKWORTH  (Lyra  Germ.,  IL  218) :  "  Lord,  all  my  heart  is  fixed  on  Thee."  The 
foUowing  preserves  the  measure  of  the  original. 


r\  LORD  !   I  love  Thee  from  my  heart 
^^^  I  pray  Thee  never  rhore  depart, 

With  help  and  grace  to  cheer  me ; 
I  scorn  the  richest  earthly  lot ; 
E'en  heaven  itself  attracts  me  not, 

If  I  can  feel  Thee  near  me. 
Through  all  my  heart's  severest  pains, 
In  Thee  my  confidence  remains  ; 
That  Saviour  shall  my  comfort  be 
Who  by  His  blood  hath  purchased  me. 

O  Jesus  Christ,  my  God  and  Lord, 
My  God  and  Lord  ! 

Be  near,  according  to  Thy  Word. 

Yea,  Lord,  'twas  Thy  free  bounty  gave 
My  body,  soul,  and  all  I  have 
In  this  poor  life  of  mine  ; 
39 


5 


6lO  LOVE    AND    GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST. 

That  I  may  spend  them  in  Thy  praise, 
And  use,  and  service  all  my  days, 

Give  me  Thy  grace  divine  ! 
Guard  me  when  heresies  arise. 
And  shield  from  Satan's  murderous  lies  : 
For  all  my  crosses  strengthen  me ; 
Then  shall  I  bear  them  patiently. 

O  Jesus  Christ,  my  Lord  and  God, 
My  Lord  and  God  ! 

Comfort  my  soul  beneath  its  load. 

Ah  !  Lord,  let  Thy  dear  angels  fly, 
At  last,  and  bear  my  soul  on  high. 

On  Abraham's  breast  to  stay ; 
My  flesh,  in  its  dark  sleeping-room, 
Rest  softly  where  no  ill  shall  come 

Until  the  Judgment-day. 
Then  from  the  dead  awaken  me, 
That  these  glad  eyes  may  look  on  Thee, 
O  Jesus,  God's  eternal  Son  ! 
My  Saviour !  on  Thy  glorious  throne. 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  my  prayer  attend. 
My  prayer  attend. 

And  I  will  praise  Thee  without  end. 


JESUS,    THY    BOUNDLESS    LOVE    TO    ME.         6ll 

JESUS,   THY  BOUNDLESS   LOVE  TO   ME. 

(O  Jesu  Christ,  meiit  sckonstes  Licht.') 


Freely  condensed  from  a  German  hymn  of  Paul  Gerhardt,  1653,  which  is  based 
upon  a  meditation  and  prayer  in  John  Arndt's  Paradiesgdrtlein.  Savile  gives 
it,  in  his  Lyra  Sacra,  without  the  name  of  the  translator.  See  the  original  in  Wack- 
ernagel's  ed.  of  P.  Gerhardt's  Geistliche  Lieder,  1855,  p.  174  (sixteen  stanzas, 
of  eight  lines  each),  and  partly  in  Knapp's  Liederschatz,  3d  ed.,  No.  1S13  (twelve 
of  eight  lines  each),  and  partly  in  Knapp's  Liederschatz,  3d  ed.,  No.  1813  (twelve 
stanzas).    The  translation  is  by  John  Wesley,  1739. 


TESUS,  Thy  boundless  love  to  me 

No  thought  can  reach,  no  tongue  declare. 
O  knit  my  thankful  heart  to  Thee 

And  reign  without  a  rival  there  ! 
Thine  wholly.  Thine  alone,  I  am; 
Be  Thou  alone  my  constant  flame  ! 

O  grant  that  nothing  in  my  soul 

May  dwell  but  Thy  pure  love  alone ; 

O  may  Thy  love  possess  me  whole. 
My  joy,  my  treasure,  and  my  crown  : 

Strange  flames  far  from  my  heart  remove ; 

May  every  act,  word,  thought,  be  love  ! 

O  Love,  how  cheering  is  Thy  ray  ! 

All  pain  before  Thy  presence  flies : 
Care,  anguish,  sorrow,  melt  away. 

Where'er  Thy  healing  beams  arise. 
O  Jesus,  nothing  may  I  see. 
Nothing  desire  or  seek,  but  Thee  ! 


6l2  LOVE    AND    GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST. 

Still  let  Thy  love  point  out  my  way  ! 

What  wondrous  things  Thy  love  hath  wrought ! 
Still  lead  me,  lest  I  go  astray ; 

Direct  my  word,  inspire  my  thought ; 
And  if  I  fall,  soon  may  I  hear 
Thy  voice,  and  know  that  love  is  near. 

In  suffering,  be  Thy  love  my  peace ; 

In  weakness,  be  Thy  love  my  power ; 
And  when  the  storms  of  life  shall  cease, 

Jesus,  in  that  dark,  final  hour 
Of  death,  be  Thou  my  guide  and  friend, 
That  I  may  love  Thee  without  end. 


I   PLACE  AN   OFFERING. 


"The  perfect  sacrifice."  From  the  French  of  Madame  Jeanne  Marie  Bauvier 
DE  LA  MoTHE  GuYON,  by  WiLLiAM  CowpER.  Madame  G.  was  born  1648,  d.  1717; 
one  of  the  most  interesting  characters  in  the  history  of  mysticism  and  religious  enthu- 
siasm ;  devoted  to  the  system  of  quietism  and  the  principle  of  disinterested  love  to  God; 
much  defamed,  persecuted,  and  imprisoned  for  heresy  and  eccentricity,  but  defended 
by  Fenelon.  She  wrote  many  works,  and  a  large  number  of  hymns  distinguished  for 
graceful  composition  and  exquisite  sensibility,  though  not  free  from  pious  extravagance. 
Some  of  the  latter  were  admirably  translated  by  Cowper.     We  select  the  best. 


T  PLACE  an  offering  at  Th}'-  shrine 

From  taint  and  blemish  clear, 
Simple  and  pure  in  its  design, 
Of  all  that  I  hold  dear. 


THE   LORD   OF   ALL   THINGS. 


a 


THE    LORD    OF    ALL    THINGS.  613 

I  yield  Thee  back  Thy  gifts  again, 
Thy  gifts  which  most  I  prize  ; 

Desirous  only  to  retain 
The  notice  of  Thine  eyes. 

But  if,  by  Thine  adored  decree, 

That  blessing  be  denied, 
Resigned  and  unreluctant,  see 

My  every  wish  subside. 

Thy  will  in  all  things  I  approve, 

Exalted  or  cast  down  ; 
Thy  will  in  every  state  I  love, 

And  even  in  Thy  frown. 


From  the  French  of  Madame  de  la  Mothe  Guyon,   by  William  Cowfer. 
Select  lines  from  her  poem  on  the  Nativity,  arranged  in  stanzas  by  the  Editor. 


'T^HE  Lord  of  all  things,  in  His  humble  birth, 

-^     Makes  mean  the  proud  magnificence  of  earth ; 
The  straw,  the  manger,  and  the  mouldering  wall 
Eclipse  its  lustre ;  and  I  scorn  it  all. 

All,  all  have  lost  the  charms  they  once  possessed ; 
An  infant  God  reigns  sovereign  in  my  breast : 
From  Bethlehem's  bosom  I  no  more  will  rove  ; 
There  dwells  the  Saviour,  and  there  rests  my  love. 


6l4  LOVE    AND    GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST. 

But  I  am  poor,  oblation  I  have  none, 
None  for  a  Saviour  but  Himself  alone  : 
Whate'er  I  render  Thee,  from  Thee  it  came  ; 
And,  if  I  give  my  body  to  the  flame, 

My  patience,  love,  and  energy  divine 
Of  heart  and  soul  and  spirit,  all  are  Thine. 
Ah,  vain  attempt  to  expunge  the  mighty  score ! 
The  more  I  pay,  I  owe  Thee  still  the  more. 

The  more  I  love  Thee,  I  the  more  reprove 
A  soul  so  lifeless,  and  so  slow  to  love  ; 
Till,  on  a  deluge  of  Thy  mercy  tossed, 
I  plunge  into  that  sea,  and  there  am  lost. 


YES:   I   WILL  ALWAYS   LOVE. 


From  the  French  of  Madame  Guyon,  translated  by  Cowper.  Part  of  a  poem 
commencing:  "Ye  linnets,  let  us  try  beneath  this  grove."  We  must  omit  the  poem 
from  her  prison,  "  O  Thou  I  by  long  experience  tried,"  where  the  beautiful  passage 
occurs : — 

"  My  country,  Lord,  art  Thou  alone : 
No  other  can  I  claim  my  own  : 
The  point  where  all  my  wishes  meet. 
My  law,  my  love,  life's  only  sweet." 


"VT'ES  :  I  will  always  love  ;  and,  as  I  ought. 

Tune  to  the  praise  of  love  my  ceaseless  voice 
Preferring  love  too  vast  for  human  thought. 

In  spite  of  erring  men,  who  cavil  at  my  choice. 


:z) 


O    LOVE    DIVINE  !  615 

Why  have  I  not  a  thousand  thousand  hearts, 

Lord  of  my  soul !  that  they  might  all  be  Thine? 

If  Thou  approve,  —  the  zeal  Thy  smile  imparts. 
How  should  it  ever  fail  ?    Can  such  a  fire  decline  ? 

Love,  pure  and  holy,  is  a  deathless  fire ; 

Its  object  heavenly,  it  must  ever  blaze ; 
Eternal  love  a  God  must  needs  inspire, 

When  once  He  wins  the  heart,  and  fits  it  for  His 
praise. 

Self-love  dismissed,  —  'tis  then  we  live  indeed  ; 

In  her  embrace,  death,  only  death  is  found : 
Come,  then,  one  noble  effort,  and  succeed ; 

Cast  off*  the  chain  of  self  with  which  thy  soul  is 
bound. 

O,  I  would  cry,  that  all  the  world  might  hear, 
Ye  self-tormentors,  love  your  God  alone ; 

Let  His  unequalled  excellence  be  dear, 

Dear  to  your  inmost  souls,  and  make    Him    all 
your  own  ! 


O   LOVE   DIVINE. 


:-<i».w^ 


Charles  Wesley.  "  Desiring  to  Love."  First  printed  in  Lamp's  Hymns  on 
the  Great  Festivals,  &c.,  1746,  and  next  in  Charies  Wesley's  Hymns  and  Sacred 
Poems,  1749. 


^~\  LOVE  divine,  how  sweet  Thou  art ! 
^^    When  shall  I  find  my  willing  heart 


3 


6i6 


LOVE    AND    GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST. 


All  taken  up  by  Thee  ? 
I  thirst  and  faint  and  die  to  prove 
The  greatness  of  redeeming  love, 

The  love  of  Christ  to  me  ! 

Stronger  His  love  than  death  or  hell ; 
Its  riches  are  unsearchable  : 

The  first-born  sons  of  light 
Desire  in  vain  its  depth  to  see ; 
They  cannot  reach  the  mystery, 

The  length  and  breadth  and  height. 

God  only  knows  the  love  of  God : 
O  that  it  now  were  shed  abroad 

In  this  poor  stony  heart ! 
For  love  I  sigh,  for  love  I  pine : 
This  only  portion.  Lord,  be  mine, 

Be  mine  this  better  part ! 

O  that  I  could  for  ever  sit 
With  Mary  at  the  Master's  feet ! 

Be  this  my  happy  choice  : 
My  only  cai-e,  delight,  and  bliss. 
My  joy,  my  heaven  on  earth,  be  this, 

To  hear  the  Bridegroom's  voice  ! 

O  that,  with  humbled  Peter,  I 

Could  weep,  believe,  and  thrice  reply, 

My  faithfulness  to  prove  : 
Thou  know'st  (for  all  to  Thee  is  known), 
Thou  know'st,  O  Lord  !  and  Thou  alone, 

Thou  know'st  that  Thee  I  love. 


JESUS,    I   LOVE   THY   NAME.  617 

O  that  I  could,  with  favored  John, 
Recline  my  weary  head  upon 

The  dear  Redeemer's  breast ! 
From  care  and  sin  and  sorrow  free. 
Give  me,  O  Lord !  to  find  in  Thee 

My  everlasting  rest. 

Thy  only  love  do  I  require. 
Nothing  in  earth  beneath  desire. 

Nothing  in  heaven  above  : 
Let  earth  and  heaven  and  all  things  go ; 
Give  me  Thy  only  love  to  know. 

Give  me  Thy  only  love. 


JESUS,   I  LOVE  THY  NAME. 


Ph.  Doddridge,  d.  1751.     "Christ  precious  to  the  Believer."     i  Peter  ii.  7. 


TESUS,  I  love  Thy  charming  name, 
^    'Tis  music  to  mine  ear ; 
Fain  would  I  sound  it  out  so  loud 
That  earth  and  heaven  should  hear. 

Yes  :  Thou  art  precious  to  my  soul, 
My  transport  and  my  trust ; 

Jewels  to  Thee  are  gaudy  toys. 
And  gold  is  sordid  dust. 


6l8  LOVE    AND    GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST. 

All  my  capacious  powers  can  wish, 

In  Thee  doth  richly  meet ; 
Nor  to  mine  eyes  is  light  so  dear 

Nor  friendship  half  so  sweet. 

Thy  grace  still  dwells  upon  my  heart, 
And  sheds  its  fragrance  there ; 

The  noblest  balm  of  all  its  wounds, 
The  cordial  of  its  care. 

I'll  speak  the  honors  of  Thy  name 
With  my  last  laboring  breath  ; 

Then,  speechless,  clasp  Thee  in  mine  arms, 
The  antidote  of  death. 


COMPARED  WITH   CHRIST. 


By  Augustus  Montague  Toplady.     1772.     "  Christ  all  in  all.' 


/COMPARED  with  Christ,  in  all  beside 

^^    No  comeliness  I  see  ; 

The  one  thing  needful,  dearest  Lord, 

Is  to  be  one  with  Thee. 
The  sense  of  Thy  expiring  love 

Into  my  soul  convey ; 
Thyself  bestow ;  for  Thee  alone 

I  absolutely  pray. 


WHEN   THIS    PASSING    WORLD    IS    DONE.         619 

Whatever  else  Thy  will  withholds, 

Here  grant  me  to  succeed  : 
O  let  Thyself  my  portion  be, 

And  I  am  blest  indeed  ! 
Less  than  Thyself  will  not  suffice 

My  comfort  to  restore  : 
More  than  Thyself  I  cannot  have ; 

And  Thou  canst  give  no  more. 

Loved  of  my  God,  for  Him  again 

With  love  intense  I  burn  ; 
Chosen  of  Thee  e'er  time  began, 

I  choose  Thee  in  return. 
Whate'er  consists  not  with  Thy  love, 

Oh  teach  me  to  resign  ; 
I'm  rich  to  all  the  intents  of  bliss, 

If  Thou,  O  God !  art  mine. 


WHEN  THIS  PASSING  WORLD  IS   DONE. 


The  Rev.  Robert  Murray  McCheyne  ;  b.  1813,  d.  1843 ;  one  of  the  most  ear- 
nest of  modern  Scottish  preachers.  "Our  Indebtedness  to  Christ."  The  text  from 
Rogers,  p.  381. 

\\T  HEN  this  passing  world  is  done. 
When  has  sunk  yon  glaring  sun. 
When  we  stand  with  Christ  in  glory, 
Looking  o'er  life's  finished  story. 
Then,  Lord,  shall  I  fully  know, — 
Not  till  then,  —  how  much  I  owe. 


cfi 


620  LOVE    AND    GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST. 

When  I  hear  the  wicked  call 
On  the  rocks  and  hills  to  fall ; 
When  I  see  them  start  and  shrink, 
On  the  fiery  deluge  brink,  — 
Then,  Lord,  shall  I  fully  know,  — 
Not  till  then,  —  how  much  I  owe. 

When  I  stand  before  the  throne, 
Dressed  in  beauty  not  my  own  ; 
When  I  see  Thee  as  Thou  art. 
Love  Thee  with  unsinning  heart,  — 
Then,  Lord,  shall  I  fully  know,  — 
Not  till  then,  —  how  much  I  owe. 

When  the  praise  of  heaven  I  hear, 
Loud  as  thunder  to  the  ear, 
Loud  as  many  waters'  noise, 
Sweet  as  harp's  melodious  voice. 
Then,  Lord,  shall  I  fully  know, — 
Not  till  then,  —  how  much  I  owe. 

Even  on  earth,  as  through  a  glass, 
Darkly  let  Thy  glory  pass. 
Make  forgiveness  feel  so  sweet. 
Make  Thy  Spirit's  help  so  meet. 
Even  on  earth.  Lord,  make  me  know 
Something  of  how  much  I  owe. 

Chosen  not  for  good  in  me. 
Wakened  up  from  wrath  to  flee, 


WHEN    THIS    PASSING    WORLD    IS    DONE.         62 1 

Hidden  in  the  Saviour's  side, 
By  the  Spirit  sanctified  ! 
Teach  me,  Lord,  on  earth  to  show, 
By  my  love,  how  much  I  owe. 

Oft  I  walk  beneath  the  cloud. 
Dark  as  midnight's  gloomy  shroud  ; 
But,  when  fear  is  at  the  height, 
Jesus  comes,  and  all  is  light. 
Blessed  Jesus  !  bid  me  show 
Doubting  saints  how  much  I  owe. 

When  in  flowery  paths  I  tread, 

Oft  by  sin  I'm  captive  led ; 

Oft  I  fall,  but  still  arise; 

The  Spirit  comes  —  the  tempter  flies ; 

Blessed  Spirit !  bid  me  show 

Weary  sinners  all  I  owe. 

Oft  the  nights  of  sorrow  reign, 
Weeping,  sickness,  sighing,  pain  : 
But  a  night  Thine  anger  burns ; 
Morning  comes  and  joy  returns  ; 
God  of  comforts  !  bid  me  show 
To  Thy  poor  how  much  I  owe. 


9 


A 


622  LOVE    AND    GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST. 

OH  HOW  COULD  I  FORGET  HIM? 

(  Wt'e  konnt'  ich  Sein  vergessen.') 


From  the  German  of  Gottlob  Christian  Kern,  a  highly  accomplished  and 
deeply  pious  Evangelical  pastor  in  the  kingdom  of  Wiirtemberg,  d.  1835.  Translated 
by  Catherine  Winkworth.  This  beautiful  hymn  was  written  for  the  holy  com- 
munion.    See  verse  4. 


/^H  how  could  I  forget  Him 
^-^  Who  ne'er  forgetteth  me? 
Or  tell  the  love  that  let  Him 

Come  down  to  set  me  free  ? 
I  lay  in  darkest  sadness, 

Till  He  made  all  things  new ; 
And  still  fresh  love  and  gladness 

Flow  from  that  heart  so  true. 

Oh   how  could  I  e'er  leave  Him 

Who  is  so  kind  a  Friend? 
Or  how  could  ever  grieve  Him 

Who  thus  to  me  doth  bend? 
Have  I  not  seen  Him  dying 

For  us  on  yonder  tree? 
Do  I  not  hear  Him  crying : 

Arise  and  follow  Me  ! 

For  ever  will  I  love  Him 

Who  saw  my  hopeless  plight, 

Who  felt  my  sorrows  move  Him, 
And  brought  me  life  and  light : 


n 


O    ABIDE,    ABIDE    IN  JESUS  !  623 

Whose  arm  shall  be  around  me 

When  my  last  hour  is  come, 
And  suffer  none  to  wound  me. 

Though  dark  the  passage  home. 

He  gives  me  pledges  holy, 

His  body  and  His  blood. 
He  lifts  the  scorned,  the  lowly, 

He  makes  my  courage  good ; 
For  He  will  reign  within  me. 

And  shed  His  graces  there  : 
The  heaven  He  died  to  win  me 

Can  I  then  fail  to  share? 

In  joy  and  sorrow  ever 

Shine  through  me.  Blessed  Heart, 
Who  bleeding  for  us  never 

Didst  shrink  from  sorest  smart ! 
Whate'er  I've  loved  or  striven 

Or  borne,  I  bring  to  Thee  ; 
Now  let  Thy  heart  and  heaven 

Stand  open,  Lord,  to  me  ! 


O  ABIDE,   ABIDE  IN  JESUS! 

{fileibt  bet  Z>em,  der  euretwillen.) 


"Abide  in  Jesus."    By  Ph.  Spitta,  d.  1859.     From  Psalter  und  Har/e,   1836. 
Translated  by  R.  Massie,  i860. 

r\  ABIDE,  abide  in  Jesus, 

^"'^    Who  for  us  bare  griefs  untold. 


624  LOVE   AND    GRATITUDE   TO    CHRIST. 

And  Himself,  from  pain  to  ease  us, 
Suffered  pangs  a  thousand-fold  ! 

Bide  with  Him  who  still  abideth 
When  all  else  shall  pass  away, 

And  as  Judge  supreme  presideth 
In  that  dread  and  awful  day. 

All  is  dying :  hearts  are  breaking. 

Which  to  ours  were  once  fast  bound ; 
And  the  lips  have  ceased  from  speaking, 

Which  once  uttered  such  sweet  sound  ; 
And  the  arms  are  powerless  lying, 

Which  were  our  support  and  stay  ; 
And  the  eyes  are  dim  and  dying, 

Which  once  watched  us  night  and  day. 

Every  thing  we  love  and  cherish 

Hastens  onward  to  the  grave. 
Earthly  joys  and  pleasures  perish, 

And  whate'er  the  world  e'er  gave  : 
All  is  fading,  all  is  fleeing, 

Earthly  flames  must  cease  to  glow  ; 
Earthly  beings  cease  from  being, 

Earthly  blossoms  cease  to  blow. 

Yet  unchanged,  while  all  decayeth, 

Jesus  stands  upon  the  dust ; 
"Lean  on  Me  alone,"  He  sayeth, 

"  Hope  and  love  and  firmly  trust !  " 


MORE    THAN   ALL.  625 

O  abide,  abide  with  Jesus, 

Who  Himself  for  ever  lives, 
Who  from  death  eternal  frees  us. 

Yea,  v^ho  life  eternal  gives  ! 


MORE  THAN  ALL. 

(^Eines  wunsck  tch  mir  vor  allem  andern.') 


The  best  hymn  of  Albert  Knapp,  one  of  the  most  fertile  German  poets  (d.  at 
Stuttgart,  1S64) ;  written,  1823,  for  a  catechumen  ;  first  published  1829,  and  since  in- 
troduced into  several  hymn-books  (Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  170).  Translated,  at  the 
request  of  the  editor,  for  the  first  time,  by  Prof.  Thos.  C.  Porter,  Lafayette  College, 
Easton,  Pa.,  April  13,  1868.  ^ 

"\ /TORE  than  all,  one  thing  my  heart  is  craving, 
■^'-^    As  my  food  by  night  or  day  ; 
With  it  blesstd  and  all  trials  braving, 

Through  this  wilderness  we  stray  : 
Ever  on  the  Man  to  gaze  adoring. 
Who,  with  bloody  sweat  and  tears,  imploring, 

On  His  face  submissive  sank. 

And  the  Father's  chalice  drank. 

Ever  shall  mine  eyes.  His  form  retaining, 

View  the  Lamb  once  slain  for  me. 
As  He  yonder,  pale  and  uncomplaining. 

Hangs  upon  the  bitter  tree  ; 
As  He  thirsting,  wrestled  in  His  anguish, 
That  in  hell  my  soul  might  never  languish,  — 

Of  me  thinking,  when  His  cry, 

"  It  is  finished  !  "  rose  on  high. 
40 


& 


626  LOVE    AND    GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST. 

0  my  Saviour  !  never  shall  Thy  kindness, 
Nor  my  guilt,  forgotten  be  :   ■ 

When  I  sat  a  stranger  in  my  blindness. 

Thou  didst  still  remember  me ; 
For  Thy  sheep  Thou  long  hadst  interceded, 
Ere  the  Shepherd's  gentle  voice  was  heeded. 

And  —  a  costly  ransom-price  !  — 

Bought  me  with  Thy  sacrifice. 

1  am  Thine  !     Say  Thou,  "  Amen,  for  ever  !  " 

Blessed  Jesus,  mine  Thou  art ! 
Let  Thy  precious  name  escape  me  never ; 

Stamp  it  burning  on  my  heart. 
With  Thee  all  things  bearing  and  achieving  ; 
In  Thee  both  to  live  and  die,  believing  : 

This  our  solemn  covenant  be. 

Till  my  spirit  rest  in  Thee  ! 


LOVEST  THOU  ME? 


James  Montgomery.     1853. 


"  T    OVEST  thou  Me  ?  "  I  hear  my  Saviour  say  : 
-*-^   Would  that  my  heart  had  power  to  answer 
"  Yea  ! 
Thou  knowest  all  things.  Lord,  in  heaven  above 
And  earth  beneath  :  Thou  knowest  that  I  love." 

But  'tis  not  so  :  in  word,  in  deed,  in  thought, 
I  do  not,  cannot,  love  Thee  as  I  ought ; 


5 


c 


JESU,    MY    LORD,    MY    GOD,    MY    ALL.  627 

Thy  love  must  give  that  power,  Thy  love  alone  ; 
There's  nothing  worthy  of  Thee  but  Thine  own  : 
Lord,  with  the  love  wherewith  Thou  lovest  me. 
Reflected  on  Thyself,  I  would  love  Thee. 


JESU,   MY  LORD,   MY  GOD,   MY  ALL. 


From  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modem,  No.  178,  and  The  PeopWs  Hymnal,  No.  508. 
This  hymn  is  evidently  suggested  by  a  eucharistic  hymn,  "  Corpus  Christi,"  of  F.  W. 
Faber  (p.  107  in  the  last  ed.  of  his  Hymns^  Lend.  1862),  commencing, — 

"  Jesus !  my  Lord,  my  God,  my  All  I  > 

How  can  I  love  Thee  as  I  ought? 
And  how  revere  this  wondrous  gift. 
So  far  surpassing  hope  or  thought  ? 
Sweet  Sacrament,  we  Thee  adore  I 
Oh  make  us  love  Thee  more  and  more  I " 


TESU,  my  Lord,  my  God,  my  All, 

Hear  me,  blest  Saviour,  when  I  call : 
Hear  me,  and  from  Thy  dwelling-place 
Pour  down  the  riches  of  Thy  grace. 
Jesu,  my  Lord,  I  Thee  adore ; 
Oh  make  me  love  Thee  more  and  more  ! 


Jesu,  too  late  I  Thee  have  sought : 
How  can  I  love  Thee  as  I  ought ; 
And  how  extol  Thy  matchless  fame. 
The  glorious  beauty  of  Thy  name? 

Jesu,  m.y  Lord,  I  Thee  adore ; 

Oh  make  me  love  Thee  more  and  more ! 


628  LOVE    AND    GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST. 

Jesu,  what  didst  Thou  find  in  me, 
That  Thou  hast  dealt  so  lovingly? 
How  great  the  joy  that  Thou  hast  brought, 
So  far  exceeding  hope  or  thought ! 

Jesu,  my  Lord,  I  Thee  adore ; 

Oh  make  me  love  Thee  more  and  more  ! 

Jesu,  of  Thee  shall  be  my  song : 

To  Thee  my  heart  and  soul  belong ; 

All  that  I  have  or  am  is  Thine, 

And  Thou,  blest  Saviour,  Thou  art  mine. 

Jesu,  my  Lord,  I  Thee  adore  ; 

Oh  make  me  love  Thee  more  and  more  ! 


JESUS,  THESE  EYES  HAVE  NEVER  SEEN. 


The  Rev.  Dr.  Ray  Palmer.  Christ  loved  unseen.  1  Peter  i.  8.  From  Hymns 
and  Sacred  Pieces.  New  York,  1865.  Written,  1858,  for  the  Andover  Sabbat 
Hymn-Book. 


TESUS,  these  eyes  have  never  seen 
^  That  radiant  form  of  Thine  ; 
The  veil  of  sense  hangs  dark  between 
Thy  blessed  face  and  mine. 

I  see  Thee  not,  I  hear  Thee  not, 

Yet  art  Thou  oft  with  me ; 
And  earth  hath  ne'er  so  dear  a  spot 

As  where  I  meet  with  Thee. 


THAT    HOLY    ONE. 


629 


i 


Like  some  bright  dream  that  comes  unsought, 

When  slumbers  o'er  me  roll, 
Thine  image  ever  fills  my  thought, 

And  charms  my  ravished  soul. 

Yet  though  I  have  not  seen,  and  still 

Must  rest  in  faith  alone, 
I  love  Thee,  dearest  Lord,  —  and  will. 

Unseen,  but  not  unknown. 

When  death  these  mortal  eyes  shall  seal, 

And  still  this  throbbing  heart, 
The  rending  veil  shall  Thee  reveal,    ' 

All  glorious  as  Thou  art. 


THAT   HOLY  ONE. 


"Consider  Him."    By  A.  D.  F.  Randolph.    Written  Sept.,  1867.    Contributed. 

T^HAT  Holy  One, 

Who  came  to  earth  for  thee,  — 
Oh  strangest  thing  beneath  the  sun. 
That  He,  by  any  mortal  one. 
Forgotten  e'er  should  be  ! 

The  Son  of  God, 
Who  pity  had  on  thee  ; 


630  LOVE    AND    GRATITUDE    TO    CHRIST. 

Who  turned  aside  the  smiting  rod, 
And  all  alone  the  Garden  trod,  — 
Forgotten  shall  He  be? 

The  blessed  Lord, 
Who  came  to  die  for  thee  ; 
Whom  Jew  and  Gentile  then  abhorred. 
While  heavenly  hosts  His  name  adored, 
Forgotten  can  He  be? 

That  Brother,  Friend, 
Who  daily  waits  on  thee  ; 
Who  every  want  doth  comprehend 
With  love  divine  that  has  no  end,  — 
Forgotten  can  He  be? 

0  Patient  One  ! 

Thou  speakest  thus  to  me : 
"Oh  strangest  thing  beneath  the  sun. 
That  thou,  for  whom  so  much  is  done, 
Shouldst  oft  forgetful  be  ! " 

My  Lord,  I  know 
What  truth  Thou  say'st  to  me  : 
Forgive  my  sin,  on  me  bestow 

Such  grace,  as  hence  to  all  will  show 

1  do  consider  Thee. 


cfl 


FOR  EVER  WITH  CHRIST. 


"In  My  Father's  house  are  many  mansions.  .  .  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you." 
—  John  xiv.  2. 

"  Where  I  am,  there  shall  also  My  servant  be."  —  John  xii.  26. 

"  And  so  shall  we  ever  be  with  the  Lord. "  —  i  Thess.  iv.  1 7. 

"  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  the 
things  which  God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  Him." —  i  Cor.  ji.  9. 

"  We  shall  be  like  Him ;  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is."  —  i  John  iii.  2. 


What  no  human  eye  hath  seen, 
What  no  mortal  ear  hath  heard. 

What  on  thought  hath  never  been, 
In  its  noblest  flights,  conferred,  — 

This  hath  God  prepared  in  store 

For  His  people  evermore  1 


Jesus  reigns,  the  Life,  the  Sun, 
Of  that  wondrous  world  above  ; 

All  the  clouds  and  storms  are  gone. 
All  is  light,  and  all  is  love. 

All  the  shadows  melt  away 

In  the  blaze  of  perfect  day  ! 

Dr.  Lange  (Germany). 


For  ever  with  the  Lord  I 

Amen  1  so  let  it  be  ! 
Life  from  the  deid  is  in  that  word. 

And  immortality. 

James  Montgomery  (England). 


"  I  WOULD  not  live  alway  !  "  no  longer  I  sing; 
Live  alway  I  shall,  whilst  Jesus  is  King : 
United  to  Him,  His  righteousness  mine, 
My  life  bound  in  His,  no  fate  shall  untwine. 
Ne'er  till  sin  enters  heaven,  and  Death  wields  his  rod, 
Defiant,  enthroned  in  the  palace  of  God  ; 
Not  till  heaven's  a  graveyard,  and  Christ  lies  there  slain,  — 
Shall  I  cease  in  His  glory,  and  with  Him  to  reign. 
Dr.  Muhlenberg.    Postscript  to  his  "  I  would  not  live  alway."  1868.  (America.) 


c 


"  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,"  Jesus  said, 
"  My  Father's  house  hath  mansions  large  and  fair  ; 

I  go  before  you  to  prepare  your  place  ; 
I  will  return  to  take  you  with  Me  there." 

H.  Beecher  Stowe. 


I  THANK  Thee,  Lord,  that  Thou  hast  kept      I  thank  Thee,  Lord,  that  here  our  souls, 


The  best  in  store : 
We  have  enough,  yet  not  too  much 

To  long  for  more,  — 
A  yearning  for  a  deeper  peace, 

Not  known  before. 


Though  amply  blest, 
Can  never  find,  although  they  seek, 

A  perfect  rest ; 
Nor  ever  shall,  until  they  lean 

On  Jesus'  breast. 

Adelaide  A.  Proctf.r. 


Yet  one  pang,  searching  and  sore, 
And  then  heaven  for  ever  more ; 
Yet  one  moment  awful  and  dark. 
Then  safety  within  the  Veil  and  the  Ark  ; 
Yet  one  effort  by  Christ,  His  grace. 
Then  Christ  for  ever  face  to  face. 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


FOR    EVER   WITH    CHRIST. 


MY   HOME   IN   HEAVEN  ALONE. 

{MovvTi  fioi  Trarpr]  ■KepikeineTO.) 


Trsl.  from  the  Greek  of  Bishop  Gregory  of  Nazianzen  (d.  390),  a  great  pulpit 
orator  and  divine,  who  divided  his  life  between  the  silence  of  monastic  seclusion  and 
the  tumult  of  public  usefulness.  He  was  one  of  the  ablest  defenders  of  the  Divinity 
of  Christ,  and  presided  over  the  second  Ecumenical  Council,  at  Constantinople,  381, 
but  voluntarily  resigned.  Deeply  lamenting  the  evils  and  distractions  of  the  Church 
of  his  age,  he  longed  for  eternal  rest  in  Christ.  .  He  wrote  a  large  number  of  verses, 
mostly  descriptive  of  his  own  life  and  the  times  in  which  he  lived,  also  odes,  and  a 
drama  on  the  Suffering  Saviour.  In  the  following  poem,  he  struggles,  from  the  depth 
of  his  complaints  and  fears,  after  the  loss  of  father,  mother,  brother,  and  sister,  into 
the  light  of  God.  It  commences :  IIoO  Sk  7\6yoL  nTtpoivrec ;  elg  aipa  "  Where 
are  the  winged  words?  Lost  in  the  air."  The  first  six  lines  are  omitted.  See  the 
Greek  in  Gregory's  O/era,  I.  77,  and  in  Daniel,  III.  11.  Another  English  version, 
by  Mrs.  Charles. 


IV/rY  home  in  heaven  alone  to  me  remains, 

The  floods  of  faction  o'er  my  country  sweep ; 
For  my  uncertain  feet,  the  land  retains 
No  resting-place,  no  friend  to  weep ; 
No  child  to  soothe  the  homeless  poor  forlorn  ; 
I  wander  day  by  day  with  trembling  limbs  and  torn. 

What  lot  awaits  me  ?     What  my  mortal  doom  ? 

Where  shall  this  jaded  body  find  its  rest? 
Shall  this  poor  trembhng  flesh  e'er  find  a  tomb? 

By  whom  shall  these  dim  eyes  in  death  be  blest? 


cfl 


634  FOR    EVER    WITH    CHRIST. 

Will  any  watch  ?    Will  any  pity  me  ? 
Will  they  be  Christian  watchers?    Or  shall  sinners 
see? 

Or  shall  no  grave  inclose  this  mortal  frame, 
When  laid  a  heavy  breathless  corpse  of  clay? 

Cast  on  the  rock  uncovered  and  in  shame, 

Or  tossed  in  scorn  to  birds  and  beasts  of  prey? 

Or  burnt  to  ashes,  given  to  the  air? 

Or  thrown  into  the  weedy  deep  to  perish  there  ? 

Thy  will  be  done,  O  Lord !    That  day  shall  spring. 
When  at  Thy  word  this  clay  shall  re-appear  ! 

No  death  I  dread  but  that  which  sin  will  bring ; 
No  fire  or  flood  without  Thy  wrath  I  fear ; 

For  Thou,  O  Christ,  my  Lord  !  art  fatherland  to  me, 

My  wealth  and  might  and  rest;    my  all  I  find  in 
Thee.i 


1  Xpiare  ava^,  av  de  /loi  ndrpr],  adevog,  o/l/3of,  ilnavra, 
2oi  6'  up'  uvaijjv^ai/u  l3iov  koI  Krjde'  u/ieltpag. 

"  Thus,"  says  Mrs.  Charles  of  this  poem  (  T/ie  Voice  of  Christian 
Life  in  Song,  p.  66),  "  in  the  old  Ionic  tongue,  the  wail  of  feeble 
mortality  went  forth  once  more,  but  with  a  close  the  old  Ionic 
music  never  knew;  for  Christ  had  died,  and  risen  from  the  dead, 
and  the  other  world  was  a  region  of  melancholy  shades  no  longer, 
for  He  is  there." 


CEASE,  YE  TEARFUL  MOURNERS  !      635 

CEASE,   YE  TEARFUL   MOURNERS  I 

i^am  fncesta  quiesce  querela.) 


The  celebrated  funeral-hymn  of  Prudentius  Clemens,  of  Spain  (d.  405);  his 
masterpiece  ;  originally  the  concluding  part  of  his  tenth  Cathemerinon,  but  complete  as 
an  independent  poem,  which,  after  lying  dormant  to  the  i6th  century,  arose  to  new 
life,  and  became  (in  the  version,  "  Hbrt  auf  mit  Trauem  und  Klagen  ")  a  favorite 
funeral-hymn  in  Protestant  Germany.  See  the  original  in  full  in  Prud.,  Opera,  ed. 
Obbarius(i845),  p.  41,  and  in  part  in  Daniel,  I.  p.  137;  Wackernagel,  I.  40  and 
329 ;  Trench,  p.  281.  It  reminds  one  of  the  worship  in  the  catacombs,  whose  gloom 
was  lit  up  with  the  hope  of  a  glorious  resurrection  in  Christ.  Freely  translated  by 
E.  Caswall.  German  translations  by  Knapp,  Puchta,  Konigsfeld,  Bissler,  Schaif. 
Another  English  version,  without  rhymes,  by  Mrs.  Charles  (in  Voice  of  Christian 
Life  in  Song,  p.  1 10) :  "  Ah  !  hush  now  your  mournful  complainings  ;  "  and  one,  on  the 
basis  of  a  German  version  (in  Bunsen's  Gesatigbuch,  No.  28S),  by  Miss  Catherine 
Winkworth  :  "  Oh  weep  not,  mourn  not,  over.this  bier  I " 

The  conception  of  the  resurrection  contained  in  this  poem,  and  taught  by  several 
of  the  ancient  Fathers,  especially  Jerome,  is  rather  materialistic.  Paul  teaches  the 
resurrection  of  the  body,  not  of  the  flesh  (1  Cor.  xv.  50).  Lazarus  was  raised  in  the 
flesh,  but  to  die  again :  the  resurrection-body  will  be  immortal. 


/^^EASE,  ye  tearful  mourners, 
^-^    Thus  your  hearts  to  rend  : 
Death  is  life's  beginning 
Rather  than  its  end.^ 

All  the  grave's  adornments, 
What  do  they  declare. 

Save  that  the  departed 
Are  but  sleeping  there? 


1  A  more  literal  rendering,  in  the  measure  of  the  original 

"  Each  sorrowful  mourner  be  silent  I 
Fond  mothers,  give  over  your  weeping  I 
None  grieve  for  those  pledges  as  perished : 
This  dying  is  life's  reparation." 


D 


636  FOR    EVER   WITH    CHRIST. 

What  though  now  to  darkness 
We  this  body  give  ; 

Soon  shall  all  its  senses 
Re-awake  and  live. 

Soon  shall  warmth  revisit 
These  poor  bones  again, 

And  the  blood  meander 

Through  each  tingling  vein  ; 

And  from  its  corruption 
This  same  body  soar, 

With  the  selfsame  spirit 
That  was  here  of  yore. 

E'en  as  duly  scattered 
By  the  sower's  hand 

In  the  fading  autumn 
O'er  the  fallow  land. 

Nature's  seed,  decaying, 
First  in  darkness  dies, 

Ere  it  can  in  glory 
Renovated  rise. 

Earth,  to  thy  fond  bosom 
We  this  pledge  intrust ; 

Oh  !  we  pray,  be  careful 
Of  the  precious  dust. 


U 


—0 

^ 

n 

i" 

^ 

c 

CEASE,    YE    TEARFUL    MOURNERS. 

This  was  once  the  mansion 

Of  a  soul  endowed 
With  sublimest  powers, 

By  the  breath  of  God. 

Here  eternal  Wisdom 
Lately  made  His  home ; 

And  again  will  claim  it 
In  the  days  to  come  ; 

When  thou  must  this  body, 
Bone  for  bone,  restore, — 

Every  single  feature 
Perfect  as  before. 

O  divinest  period ! 

Speed  upon  thy  way ; 
O  eternal  Justice  ! 

Make  no  more  delay. 

When  shall  love  in  glory 

Its  fruition  see? 
When  shall  hope  be  lost  in 

Immortality  ? 

637 

U 

c 

i 

(^ 

1 

) 

•> 

n 

M 

638  FOR   EVER   WITH    CHRIST. 

NO  MORE,   AH,   NO   MORE. 

{Jam  waesta  qiiiesce  querela.) 


Another,  and  more  faithful,  version  of  the  resurrection  hymn  of  Prudentius,  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  E.  A.  Washburn,  New  York,  1865 ;  revised,  Oct.  1868.  See  the  note 
on  the  preceding  hymn. 


T^TO  more,  ah,  no  more  sad  complaining; 
^  ^    Resign  these  fond  pledges  to  earth  : 
Stay,  mothers,  the  thick-falling  tear-drops  ; 
This  death  is  a  heavenly  birth. 

What  mean  these  still  caverns  of  marble. 
Fair  shrines  that  the  dear  ashes  keep  ? 

How  sweetly  they  tell  of  the  loved  ones. 
Not  dead,  but  soft  resting  in  sleep  ! 

What  though,  on  the  pale,  icy  forehead, 
No  gleam  of  the  intellect  break? 

A  moment  it  slumbers,  till  nobler 
Its  powers  in  their  beauty  awake. 

Soon,  soon,  through  the  motionless  body. 
The  warm,  loving  life-tide  shall  pour, 

And,  blushing  with  joy,  shall  revisit 
The  home  it  has  dwelt  in  before. 

These  clods,  'neath  the  hillock  reposing. 

Long  wasting  in  silent  decay, 
Shall  follow  the  souls  that  have  loved  them, 

On  winged  winds  soaring  away. 


NO    MORE,    AH,    NO    MORE.  639 

So,  green  from  the  seed  springs  the  blossom, 
Long  perished,  long  hid  in  the  mould  ; 

And,  fresh  from  the  turf,  it  remembers 
The  wide-waving  harvests  of  old. 

Take,  Earth,  to  thy  bosom  so  tender, — 
Take,  nourish  this  body.     How  fair. 

How  noble  in  death  !  we  surrender 
These  relics  of  man  to  thy  care. 

This,  this  was  the  home  of  the  spirit, 
Once  built  by  the  breath  of  our  God ; 

And  here,  in  the  light  of  His  wisdom, 
Christ,  Head  of  the  risen,  abode. 

Guard  well  the  dear  treasure  we  lend  thee : 

The  Maker,  the  Saviour  of  men 
Shall  never  forget  His  beloved, 

But  claim  His  own  likeness  again. 

Speed  on,  perfect  year,  to  the  morning ; 

God's  fulness  shall  dawn  on  the  just. 
And  thou,  open  Grave,  shalt  restore  us 

The  glorified  form  from  the  dust. 


P 


640  FOR   EVER    WITH    CHRIST. 


WITH  TERROR  THOU   DOST   STRIKE. 

(^Gravi  me  terrore  fulsas,  vita  dies  uliitna.) 


De  Die  Mortis.  By  Peter  Damiani,  cardinal-bishop  of  Ostia  (1002-1072); 
friend  of  Hildebrand  (afterwards  Pope  Gregory  VII.),  whom,  "with  a  marvellous  in- 
sight into  the  heights  and  depths  of  his  character,"  he  called  his.  "  Holy  Satan  "  (Sanc- 
tus  Satanas) ;  promoter  of  his  hierarchical  reforms ;  died  1072,  after  a  season  of  retire- 
ment and  prayer,  as  abbot  of  Santa  Croce  d'Avellano ,  the  author  of  several  poems, 
among  which  that  on  the  Glory  and  Delights  0/  Paradise  ("Ad  perennis  vita  fontera 
mens  sitivit  arida")  is  best  known  and  appreciated.  The  following  comes  next  in 
merit.  Dr.  Nealk  calls  it  an  "  awful  hymn,  the  Dies  Irce  of  individual  life  "  {Media- 
vat  Hymns,  p.  52).  Translated  by  the  Hon.  Erastus  C.  Benedict,  of  New  York, 
August,  1868.  Contributed.  An  older  translation,  by  Dr.  Neale  :  "  O  what  terror  in 
thy  forethought,  ending  scene  of  mortal  life!"  See  the  Latin  in  Daniel,  I.  p.  224; 
Konigsfeld  (Lat.  Hymnen,  I.  p.  112;  fifteen  stanzas,  with  a  German  version);  and 
in  Trench,  p.  278,  who  also  gives  Damiani's  epitaph,  written  by  himself. 


TT  TITH  terror  thou   dost   strike   me    now,  life's 

'  ^    fearful  dying  day  ! 
My  heart  is  sad,  my  loins  are  weak,  my  spirit  faints 

away ; 
While  to  my  saddened  soul,  Thy  sight  my  anxious 

thoughts  display. 

Who  can  that  dreadful   sight   describe,  or  without 

trembling  see  ! 
When,  from  the  ended  course  of  life,  the  weary  soul 

would  flee ; 
And,  sick  of  all  the  bonds  of  flesh,  it  struggles  to 

be  free. 


ft 


WITH    TERROR    THOU    DOST    STRIKE.  64I 

The  senses  fail,  the  tongue  is  stifF,  the  eyes  uncer- 
tain stray ; 

The  panting  breath  and  gasping  throat  the  coming 
end  betray ; 

From  palsied  limbs  and  pallid  lips  all  charm  has 
fled  away. 

Now  spring  at  once  to  view  past  thoughts  and  words 

and  deeds  and  life, 
Before  unwilling  eyes  they  come,  all  crowding  fresh 

and  rife, 
And  stand  revealed  before  the  mind,  that  shrinks 

with  timid  strife. 

And  biting  conscience  tortures  now  the  trembling 

guilty  breast, 
And  weeps  the  loss  of  perished  hours,  that  might 

have  given  rest : 
Too  late  repentance,  full  of  grief,  no  proper  fruit 

has  blessed. 

Of  the  false  sweetness  of  the  flesh,  what  bitterness 
remains, 

When  the  brief  pleasure  of  this  life  is  turned  to 
endless  pains. 

And  all  life's  idols  here  below  the  dying  hour  dis- 
dains. 

I  pray  Thee,  Jesus,  grant  me,  then.  Thine  own 
almighty  aid, 

41 


642 


FOR    EVER    WITH    CHRIST. 


When  I  shall  enter,  at  the  last,  in  death's  dark  valley- 
shade  ; 

Let  not  the  tyrant  foe,  I  pray,  my  trembling  soul 
invade. 

Oh  from  the  prince  of  darkness,  then,  and  hell's 
dark  prison  save  ! 

And  take  me  ransomed  to  Thy  home,  Good  Shep- 
herd, now  I  crave. 

Where  I  may  live  in  endless  life,  with  Thee, 
beyond  the  grave. 


THE   HEAVENLY  JERUSALEM. 

(^Hora  novissima.) 


This  glowing  description  of  the  celestial  country  is  the  sweetest  of  all  the  New- 
Jerusalem  hymns  of  heavenly  home-sickness,  which  have  taken  their  inspiration  from 
the  last  two  chapters  of  Revelation  ;  composed,  about  1145,  by  Bernard,  a  monk  of 
Cluny,  in  France  (b.,  of  English  parents,  at  Morlaix,  in  Bretagne),  and  contemporary 
of  the  more  illustrious  St.  Bernard,  of  Clairvaux ;  very  freely,  but  most  happily,  repro- 
duced, and  first  made  available  for  popular  use,  by  Dr.  John  M.  Neale,  1S59,  and 
more  fully  1867 ;  arranged,  by  the  Editor,  in  three  separate  hymns.  (Similar  divi- 
sions in  Hymtts  Ancient  attd  Moder?t,  No.  142,  and  in  The  People'' s  Hymnal,  Nos. 
465-469.)  The  original,  entitled  De  Contefnptu  Miindi,  and  dedicated  to  Peter  the 
Venerable,  abbot  of  Cluny  (1122-1156),  is  in  great  part  a  bitter  satire  on  the  corrup- 
tions of  the  age,  but  opens,  by  way  of  contrast,  with  this  exquisite  description  of  the 
peace  and  glory  of  heaven.  It  comprises  nearly  three  thousand  lines,  of  dactylic  hex- 
ameters, with  the  leonine  (sometimes  a  trisyllabic  or  dactylic)  and  tailed  rhyme,  each 
line  being  broken  up  in  three  equal  parts,  —  a  most  difficult  metre,  which  only  a  special 
grace  and  inspiration  enabled  the  author,  as  he  believed,  to  master.  I  quote  the  first 
lines :  — 

Hora  noviss'imS  ||  tSmpStS  p3s.r?w/a  II  sunt :  vigVe>nfis  I 

Ecce  !  m'm!u:Her  ||  imminet  nrfiiUr  ||  ille  supremus  ! 

Imminet,  \mfninet.  ||  ut  mala  terminei  ]\  aequa  coronet. 

Recta  remvLneret,  ||  anxia  Wberet,  ||  aethera  donet. 

It  was  first  published  by  Matthias  Flacius,  with  other  poems  calling  for  a  reformation 
of  ecclesiastical  abuses,   Basle,   1557 ;   and  about  five  times  since,  more  recently  by 


BRIEF    LIFE    IS    HERE    OUR    PORTION.  643 

Trench,  though  only  in  part  (96  lines,  pp.  304-310) ;  but  first  naturalized  in  English  by 
the  admirable  transfusion  (based  upon  Trench's  extracts)  of  Dr.  Neale,  portions  of 
which,  especially  "Jerusalem  the  golden"  (Part  III.),  have  at  once  been  adopted  as 
"  a  priceless  acquisition  "  to  the  hymns  of  the  Church  universal. 

Dr.  A.  Coles,  of  Newark,  the  well-known  translator  of  Dies  Irte,  published,  in 
1866,  a  more  literal  version,  preserving  the  leonine  and  tailed  rhymes,  but  substituting 
anapests  for  dactyls :  — 

"  The  last  of  the  hours,  iniquity  towers, 

The  times  are  the  worst,  let  us  vigils  be  keeping ! 
Lest  the  Judge,  who  is  near,  and  soon  to  appear. 

Shall  us  at  His  coming  find  slumbering  and  sleeping. 
He  is  nigh.  He  is  nigh  !  He  descends  from  the  sky. 

For  the  ending  of  evil  and  the  right's  coronation. 
The  just  to  reward,  relief  to  afford. 

And  the  heavens  bestow  for  the  saints'  habitation." 

S.  W.  DuFFiELD  has  gone  still  further,  and  attempted  a  version  in  the  inimitable 
measure  of  the  original  (New  York,  1867),  commencing :  — 

"  These  are  the  latter  times,  these  are  not  better  times : 
Let  us  stand  waiting.  y 

Lo  1  how,  with  awfulness,  He,  first  in  lawfulness, 
Comes  arbitrating. 

Land  of  delightfulness,  safe  from  all  spitefulness, 

Safe  from  all  trouble. 
Thou  shalt  be  filled  again,  Israel  built  again ; 

Joy  shall  redouble." 


PART    I. 

BRIEF  LIFE   IS    HERE   OUR  PORTION. 

(///c  breve  vivttur,  hie  breve  plangitur,  hie  breve  fletur.^^ 

"DRIEF  life  is  here  our  portion, 

Brief  sorrow,  short-lived  care  ; 
The  life  that  knows  no  ending, 
The  tearless  life,  is  there. 


1  Briefly  we  tarry  here,  briefly  are  harried  here, 
Here  is  brief  sorrow. 


\J 


644  FOR    EVER    WITH    CHRIST. 

0  happy  retribution  ! 
Short  toil,  eternal  rest; 

For  mortals  and  for  sinners 
A  mansion  with  the  blest ! 

There  grief  is  turned  to  pleasure ; 

Such  pleasure,  as  below 
No  human  voice  can  utter, 

No  human  heart  can  know. 

Then  all  the  halls  of  Sion 
For  aye  shall  be  complete, 

And  in  the  land  of  beauty 
All  things  of  beauty  meet. 

The  Saviour  whom  we  trust  in 
Shall  then  be  seen  and  known. 

And  they  that  know  and  see  Him 
Shall  have  Him  for  their  own. 

There  Jesus  shall  embrace  us, 
There  Jesus  be  embraced. 

That  spirit's  food  and  sunshine 
Whence  earthly  love  is  chased. 

Yes  !  Christ  my  King  and  Portion, 
In  fulness  of  His  grace, 

1  then  shall  see  for  ever. 

And  worship  face  to  face. 


FOR  THEE,  O  DEAR,  DEAR  COUNTRY  !    645 


PART  II. 

FOR  THEE,  O  DEAR,  DEAR  COUNTRY! 

((?  bo7ta  f  atria,  lumina  sobria  te  sJ>eculaniurJ) 

"POR  thee,  O  dear,  dear  Country  ! 
•*•     Mine  eyes  their  vigils  keep  ; 
For  very  love,  beholding 

Thy  happy  name,  they  weep. 

The  mention  of  thy  glory 

Is  unction  to  the  breast. 
And  medicine  in  sickness. 

And  love  and  life  and  rest. 

O  come,  O  onely  Mansion  ! 

O  Paradise  of  Joy  ! 
Where  tears  are  ever  banished, 

And  smiles  have  no  alloy. 

The  Lamb  is  all  thy  splendor, 

The  Crucified  thy  praise  : 
His  laud  and  benediction 

Thy  ransomed  people  raise. 

Jesus,  the  Gem  of  Beauty, 

True  God  and  Man  !  they  sing  ; 

The  never-failing  Garden, 
The  ever-golden  Ring ! 


p 


-u 


d 

646  FOR    EVER    WITH    CHRIST. 

The  Shepherd  and  the  Husband, 
The  Guardian  of  His  Court ; 

The  Day-star  of  Salvation, 
The  Porter  and  the  Port ! 

Thou  hast  no  shore,  fair  ocean  ! 

Thou  hast  no  time,  bright  day  ! 
Dear  fountain  of  refreshment 

To  pilgrims  far  away  ! 

Thou  feel'st  in  mystic  rapture, 
O  Bride,  that  know'st  no  guile, 

The  Prince's  sweetest  kisses, 
The  Prince's  loveliest  smile. 

Unfading  lilies,  bracelets 
Of  living  pearl  thine  own  : 

The  Lamb  is  ever  near  thee, 
The  Bridegroom  thine  alone. 

And  all  thine  endless  leisure 
In  sweetest  accents  sings 

The  ill  that  was  thy  merit, 

The  wealth  that  is  thy  King's  ! 


^ 

c 

) 

c 

JERUSALEM    THE    GOLDEN.                         647 
PART    III. 

JERUSALEM  THE    GOLDEN. 

{Urbs  Syoti  aurea, patria  lactea,  cive  decora.) 

JERUSALEM  the  golden, 
^    With  milk  and  honey  blest ! 

3 

Beneath  thy  contemplation 

Sink  heart  and  voice  oppressed. 

I  know  not,  O  I  know  not, 

What  holy  joys  are  there  ! 
What  radiancy  of  glory. 

What  light  beyond  compare  ! 

They  stand,  those  halls  of  Sion, 

Conjubilant  with  song, 
And  bright  with  many  an  angel, 
And  all  the  martyr  throng. 

The  Prince  is  ever  in  them  ; 

The  daylight  is  serene  : 
The  pastures  of  the  blessed 

Are  decked  in  glorious  sheen. 

There  is  the  throne  of  David, 

And  there,  from  care  released, 

The  song  of  them  that  triumph. 
The  shout  of  them  that  feast. 

c 

n 

c: 

) 

■          a                                                                                                                                            Q — 

L 

c , 


648  FOR    EVER    WITH    CHRIST. 

And  they,  who,  with  their  Leader, 
Have  conquered  in  the  fight. 

For  ever  and  for  ever 

Are  clad  in  robes  of  white  ! 

And  there  the  Sole-Begotten 

Is  Lord  in  regal  state ; 
He,  Judah's  mystic  Lion, 

He,  Lamb  immaculate. 

O  fields  that  know  no  sorrow  ! 

O  state  that  fears  no  strife  ! 
O  princely  bowers  !  O  land  of  flowers 

O  realm  and  home  of  life  ! 

Exult,  O  dust  and  ashes  ! 

The  Lord  shall  be  thy  part : 
His  only.  His  for  ever. 

Thou  shalt  be  and  thou  art ! 

Jesus,  in  mercy  bring  us 
Soon  to  that  land  of  rest ; 

Who  art,  with  God  the  Fatlier, 
And  Spirit,  ever  blest ! 


THE    LIFE    ABOVE,    THE    LIFE    ON    HIGH.        649 

THE   LIFE  ABOVE,  THE   LIFE   ON   HIGH. 

(  Vivo  sin  vivir  en  mi  J) 


Part  of  a  post-communion  hymn  of  St.  Teresa,  of  Spain  (d.  1582),  one  of  the 
greatest  saints  of  the  Roman-Catholic  Church.  Translated  by  E.  Caswall.  (From 
Shipley's  Lyra  Euckaristica,  p.  201.)  This  poem  is  not  free  from  a  morbid  asceti- 
cism, which,  like  the  extravagant  passion  of  Ignatius  for  martyrdom,  differs  widely 
from  the  calm  resignation  of  the  healthy  Christian  life,  as  exhibited  in  St.  Paul,  Phil, 
ii.  21-26  ;  yet  it  is  full  of  burning  love  to  Christ,  and  represents  a  phase  of  Christian 
experience,  in  favorable  contrast  to  the  secularized  Christianity  of  the  day,  which  feels 
too  much  at  home  in  this  world. 


'T^HE  Life  above,  the  Life  on  high, 
Alone  is  Life  in  .verity  ; 
Nor  can  we  Life  at  all  enjoy, 

Till  this  poor  life  is  o'er ; 
Then,  O  sweet  Death  !  no  longer  fly 
From  me,  who,  ere  my  time  to  die, 
Am  dying  evermore ; 
For  evermore  I  weep  and  sigh. 
Dying,  because  I  do  not  die. 

To  Him,  who  deigns  in  me  to  live. 
What  better  gift  have  I  to  give, 
O  my  poor  earthly  life,  than  thee? 

Too  glad  of  thy  decay, 

So  but  I  may  the  sooner  see 

That  Face  of  sweetest  majesty, 

For  which  I  pine  away  ; 

While  evermore  I  weep  and  sigh. 

Dying,  because  I  do  not  die. 


:z) 


650  FOR    EVER   WITH    CHRIST. 

Absent  from  Thee,  my  Saviour  dear, 
I  call  not  Life  this  living  here, 
But  a  long  dying  agony, 

The  sharpest  I  have  known ; 
And  I  myself,  myself  to  see 
In  such  a  rack  of  misery. 
For  very  pity  moan  ; 
And  ever,  ever  weep  and  sigh. 
Dying,  because  I  do  not  die. 

Ah  !  Lord,  my  Light  and  living  Breath, 
Take  me,  oh,  take  me  from  this  death. 
And  burst  the  bars  that  sever  me 

From  my  true  Life  above  ! 
Think  how  I  die  Thy  Face  to  see. 
And  cannot  live  away  frojn  Thee, 
O  my  eternal  Love  ! 
And  ever,  ever,  weep  and  sigh, 
Dying,  because  I  do  not  die. 

I  weary  of  this  endless  strife  ; 
I  weary  of  this  dying  life. 

This  living  death,  this  heavy  chain, 

This  torment  of  delay, 
In  which  her  sins  my  soul  detain. 
Ah  !  when  shall  it  be  mine?     Ah  !  when, 
With  my  last  breath  to  say, — 
No  more  I  weep,  no  more  I  sigh ; 
I'm  dying  of  desire  to  die. 


U 


LORD,  IT  BELONGS  NOT  TO  MY  CARE.    65 1 

LORD,  IT  BELONGS  NOT  TO  MY  CARE. 


Richard  Baxter;  b.  1615,  d.  i6gt ;  the  model  pastor  of  Kidderminster;  author 
of  the  Sainfs  Rest,  and  other  excellent  works.  The  following  verses  are  taken  from  a 
longer  poem,  entitled :  "  The  Covenant  and  Confidence  of  Faith  "  (see  Rogers,  p.  47). 
They  form  a  Protestant  pendant  to  the  preceding  poem  of  Saint  Teresa. 


T    ORD,  it  belongs  not  to  my  care 
-'-^   Whether  I  die  or  live  ; 
To  love  and  serve  Thee  is  my  share, 
And  this  Thy  grace  must  give. 

If  life  be  long,  I  will  be  glad. 

That  I  may  long  obey  ; 
If  short,  yet  why  should  I  be  sad. 

That  shall  have  the  same  pay?^ 

Christ  leads  me  through  no  darker  rooms 

Than  He  went  through  before  ; 
He  that  unto  God's  kingdom  comes 

Must  enter  by  this  door.^ 

Come,  Lord,  when  grace  has  made  me  meet 

Thy  blessed  face  to  see  ; 
For  if  Thy  work  on  earth  be  sweet. 

What  will  Thy  glory  be  ! 

^  Improved  in  the  Andover  Sabbath  Hymn-Book,  No.  763  :  — 
"To  soar  to  endless  day?  " 
The  Marylebone  Collection,  1851,  and  Alford's  Tear  of  Praise, 
1S67,  change  the  whole  verse  :  — 

"  If  life  be  long,  my  days  are  blest,  When  they  are  spent  for  Thee  ; 
If  short  my  course,  I  sooner  rest,  From  sin  and  trouble  free." 

2  Andover  Sabbath  Hytnti-Book  :  — 

"  No  one  into  His  kingdom  comes, 
But  through  His  opened  door." 


u 


■-5 


13 


652  FOR    EVER   WITH    CHRIST. 

Then  shall  I  end  my  sad  complaints, 
And  weary,  siriful  days, 

And  join  with  the  triumphant  saints 
To  sing  Jehovah's  praise. 

My  knowledge  of  that  life  is  small, 
The  eye  of  faith  is  dim  ; 

But  it's  enough  that  Christ  knows  all. 
And  I  shall  be  with  Him. 


THOU   SHALT   RISE! 

{Auferstehn,  ja  auferstehn  -wirst  du.) 


Friedrich  Gottlieb  Klopstock  (the  German  Milton,  though  not  quite  equal  to 
him  in  genius) ;  b.  1724  ;  d.,  at  Hamburg,  1803.  Translated  in  Hymns  frotn  the  Land 
of  Luther,  slightly  altered  by  the  Editor,  according  to  the  original.  A  closer  version 
in  Baskerville's  Poetry  of  Germany  I  "Arise,  yes,  yes,  arise,  O  thou  my  dust, 
From  short  repose  thou  must." 

^  I  ^HOU  shalt  rise !  my  dust,  thou  shalt  arise  ! 
Not  always  closed  thine  eyes  : 
Thy  life's  first  Giver 
Will  give  thee  life  for  ever. 
Hallelujah  ! 

Sown  in  darkness,  but  to  bloom  again, 
When,  after  winter's  reign, 

Jesus  is  reaping 

The  seed  now  quietly  sleeping. 
Hallelujah  ! 


CI 

C 


IT 


ASLEEP   IN  JESUS.  653 

Day  of  praise  !  for  thee,  thou  wondrous  day, 

In  my  quiet  grave  I  stay ; 

And,  when  I  number 
My  days  and  nights  of  slumber, 
Thou  wakest  me  ! 

Then,  as  they  who  dream,  we  shall  arise 
With  Jesus  to  the  skies, 

And  find  that  morrow. 

The  weary  pilgrim's  sorrow, 
All  past  and  gone  ! 

Then  shall  I  the  Holy  of  Holiest  tread, 
By  my  Redeemer  led. 

Through  heaven  soaring, 

His  holy  name  adoring 
Eternally  ! 


ASLEEP  IN  JESUS. 


Mrs.  Margaret  Mackay.     This  popular  lyric  appeared  first  in  The  Amethyst, 
at  Edinburgh,  1832.     Rogers,  p.  3S9. 


A  SLEEP  in  Jesus  !  blessed  sleep, 
•^  ^    From  which  none  ever  wakes  to  weep, 
A  calm  and  undisturbed  repose. 
Unbroken  by  the  last  of  foes  ! 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  oh,  how  sweet 

To  be  for  such  a  slumber  meet  I 

With  holy  confidence  to  sing 

That  death  hath  lost  his  venomed  sting. 


c 


654 


FOR    EVER    WITH    CHRIST. 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  peaceful  rest, 
Whose  waking  is  supremely  blest ; 
No  fear,  no  woe,  shall  dim  that  hour, 
That  manifests  the  Saviour's  power. 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  oh  for  me 
May  such  a  blissful  refuge  be ; 
Securely  shall  my  ashes  lie. 
Waiting  the  summons  from  on  high  ! 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  time  nor  space 
Debars  this  precious  "hiding-place  ;  " 
On  Indian  plains,  or  Lapland  snows, 
Believers  find  the  same  repose. 

Asleep  in  Jesus  !  far  from  thee 
Thy  kindred  and  their  graves  may  be ; 
But  thine  is  still  a  blessed  sleep, 
From  which  none  ever  wakes  to  weep  ! 


LET  ME  BE  WITH  THEE. 


Miss  Charlotte  Elliott.     1836.    Compare  John  xvii.  24. 


T    ET  me  be  with  Thee  where  Thou  art, 
■'-^    My  Saviour,  my  eternal  Rest ! 
Then  only  will  this  longing  heart 
Be  fully  and  for  ever  blest ! 


WE    SPEAK    OF    THE    REALMS.  655 

Let  me  be  with  Thee  where  Thou  art, 

Thy  unveiled  glory  to  behold ; 
Then  only  will  this  wandering  heart 

Cease  to  be  treacherous,  faithless,  cold  ! 

Let  me  be  with  Thee  where  Thou  art. 
Where  spotless  saints  Thy  Name  adore  ; 

Then  only  will  this  sinful  heart 
Be  evil  and  defiled  no  more ! 

Let  me  be  with  Thee  where  Thou  art. 

Where  none  can  die,  where  none  remove ; 

There  neither  death  nor  life  will  part 
Me  from  Thy  presence  and  Thy  love  ! 


WE   SPEAK   OF  THE   REALMS. 


Anonymous.    Often  ascribed  to  a  Mrs.  Wilson.     1837.     Rogers,  p.  633. 


"\T  JE  speak  of  the  realms  of  the  blessed, 
^  ^    Of  that  country  so  bright  and  so  fair, 
And  oft  are  its  glories  confessed ; 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  there? 

We  speak  of  its  pathways  of  gold, 

Of  its  walls  decked  with  jewels  so  rare, 

Of  its  wonders  and  treasures  untold ; 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  there  ? 


D 


656  FOR    EVER   WITH    CHRIST. 

We  speak  of  its  freedom  from  sin, 
From  sorrow,  temptation,  and  care, 

From  trials  without  and  within  ; 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  there  ? 

We  speak  of  its  service  of  love. 

Of  the  robes  which  the  glorified  wear, 

The  Church  of  the  first-born  above  ; 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  there? 

Do  Thou,  Lord,  midst  pleasure  and  woe, 
Still  for  heaven  my  spirit  prepare  ; 

And  shortly  I  also  shall  know 
And  feel  what  it  is  to  be  there. 


SINCE   O'ER  THY  FOOTSTOOL. 


Rev.  W.  A.  Muhlenberg,  D.D.  1824.  In  the  same  year,  he  wrote  his  "  I  would 
not  live  alway  "  (Job  vii.  16),  which  passed  into  the  selection  of  hymns  in  the  Epis- 
copal Prayer-Book,  and  has  justly  become  a  favorite  in  all  American  churches.  If 
space  would  permit,  I  would  give  the  revised  and  enlarged  form  of  1859. 


OINCE  o'er  Thy  footstool  here  below 
*^    Such  radiant  gems  are  strewn, 
Oh,  what  magnificence  must  glow. 
My  God,  about  Thy  throne  ! 
So  brilliant  here  those  drops  of  light,  — 
There  the  full  ocean  rolls,  how  bright ! 

If  night's  blue  curtain  of  the  sky 
With  thousand  stars  inwrought, 


OH,    PARADISE    MUST    FAIRER    BE  !  657 

Hung  like  a  royal  canopy 

With  glittering  diamonds  fraught, 
Be,  Lord,  Thy  temple's  outer  veil. 
What  splendor  at  the  shrine. must  dwell ! 

The  dazzling  sun,  at  noontide  hour, 

Forth  from  his  flaming  vase, 
Flinging  o'er  earth  the  golden  shower. 
Till  vale  and  mountain  blaze. 
But  shows,  O  Lord  !  one  beam  of  Thine  : 
What,  then,  the  day  where  Thou  dost  shine  I 

Ah !  how  shall  these  dim  eyes  endure 

That  noon  of  living  rays. 
Or  how  my  spirit  so  impure 
Upon  Thy  glory  gaze? 
Anoint,  O  Lord  !  anoint  my  sight, 
And  robe  me  for  that  world  of  light ! 


OH,   PARADISE   MUST   FAIRER  BE! 

(^Das  Paradtcs  muss  schoner  sein.) 


Friedrich  RiJCKERT,  1789-1866.  "Das  Paradies."  A  free  and  abridged  tr?i.n%- 
lation,  taken  from /^^az/^«wrtrv^;  Hymns  and  Poems  0/ Consolation,  New  York,  1867, 
p.  184,  where  it  is  given  without  the  name  of  the  translator.  This  beautiful  poem  is 
true  only  on  the  basis  of  a  vital  union  with  Him  who  is  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life. 


/^H,  Paradise  must  fairer  be 
^■^^    Than  any  spot  below  ! 
My  spirit  pines  for  liberty  ; 
Now  let  me  thither  go  ! 
42 


658  FOR    EVER   WITH    CHRIST. 

In  Paradise,  for  ever  clear 

The  stream  of  love  is  flowing  ; 

For  every  tear  that  I've  shed  here 
A  pearl  therein  is  glowing. 

In  Paradise  alone  is  rest ; 

Joy  breathing,  woe  dispelling  ; 
A  heavenly  wind  fans  every  breast 

Within  that  happy  dwelling. 

For  every  wounding  thorn  below 

A  rose  shall  blossom  there  ; 
And  sweeter  flowers  than  earth  can  show 

Shall  twine  around  my  hair. 

And  every  joy,  that,  budding,  died, 

Shall  open  there  in  bloom  ; 
And  Spring,  in  all  her  flowery  pride, 

Shall  waken  from  the  tomb. 

And  all  the  joys  shall  meet  me  there 
For  which  my  heart  was  pining. 

Like  golden  fruit  in  gardens  fair. 
And  flowers  for  ever  shining. 

My  youth,  that  fled  so  soon  away, 

And  left  me  sad,  decaying. 
Shall  there  be  with  me  every  day 

With  bright  wings  round  me  playing. 


O   PARADISE  !     O    PARADISE  !  659 

All  hopes,  all  wishes,  all  the  love 

I  sighed  for,  pined  for,  ever. 
Shall  bloom  around  me  there  above. 

And  last  with  me  for  ever  ! 


O  PARADISE!    O  PARADISE! 


F.  W.  Faber,  D.D.  ;  born  1815.  From  the  last  edition  of  his  Hymns,  London, 
1862,  p.  423.  The  last  two  verses  are  omitted,  and  the  third  has  been  put  last.  Some 
British  collections  give  only  three  stanzas. 


r\  PARADISE  !    O  Paradise  ! 
^-'^    Who  doth  not  crave  for  rest? 
Who  would  not  seek  the  happy  land. 
Where  they  that  loved  are  blest ; 
Where  loyal  hearts,  and  true, 

Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 
In  God's  most  holy  sight? 

O  Paradise  !  O  Paradise  ! 

The  world  is  growing  old  : 
Who  would  not  be  at  rest  and  free 
Where  love  is  never  cold ; 

Where  loyal  hearts,  and  true. 

Stand  ever  in  the  light. 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 
In  God's  most  holy  sight? 


66o  FOR    EVER   "WITH    CHRIST. 

0  Paradise  !  O  Paradise  ! 
'Tis  weary  waiting  here  : 

1  long  to  be  where  Jesus  is, 

To  feel,  to  see  Him  near ; 
Where  loyal  hearts,  and  true, 

Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 

In  God's  most  holy  sight. 

0  Paradise  !  O  Paradise  ! 
I  want  to  sin  no  more ; 

1  want  to  be  as  pure  on  earth 

As  on  thy  spotless  shore ; 

Where  loyal  hearts,  and  true. 

Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 
In  God's  most  holy  sight. 

O  Paradise  I  O  Paradise  I 

Wherefore  doth  death  delay?  — 
Bright  death,  that  is  the  welcome  dawn 
Of  our  eternal  day  ; 

Where  loyal  hearts,  and  true, 

Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 
In  God's  most  holy  sight. 


-> 


CX— 

NO,    NO,    IT    IS    NOT    DYING.  66 1 

NO,   NO,   IT  IS    NOT   DYING. 

(^Non,  cen^est  fas  mourir.') 


From  the  French  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  C.«sar  Malan;  b.  1785;  d.  1864:  pastor  of  an 
Independent  Reformed  Church  at  Geneva ;  a  man  of  genius  and  striking  individual- 
ity; author  of  Chants  de  Sion,  au  Recueil  de  Cantiques,  Paris,  1841  (No.  233).  The 
following  excellent  translation  was  made  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  R.  P.  Dunn,  late  professor 
of  rhetoric  and  English  literature  in  Brown  University,  Providence,  R.I.  (d.  Aug.  28, 
1867),  not  directly  from  the  French,  but  from  an  admirable  German  version  of 
A.  Knapf:  "Nein,  nein,  das  ist  kein  Sterben"  (in  Schaff's  G.  H.  B.,  No.  464). 


"j^TO,  no,  it  is  not  dying, 
^    To  go  uiito  our  God ; 
This  gloomy  earth  forsaking. 
Our  journey  homeward  taking 
Along  the  starry  road. 

No,  no,  it  is  not  dying, 
Heaven's  citizen  to  be  ; 
A  crown  immortal  wearing, 
And  rest  unbroken  sharing, 
From  care  and  conflict  free. 

No,  no,  it  is  not  dying. 
To  hear  this  gracious  word  : 
"Receive  a  Father's  blessing, 
For  evermore  possessing 
The  favor  of  thy  Lord." 


c:: 


662  FOR    EVER   WITH    CHRIST. 

No,  no,  it  is  not  dying, 
The  Shepherd's  voice  to  know ; 
His  sheep  He  ever  leadeth. 
His  peaceful  flock  He  feedeth, 
Where  living  pastures  grow. 

No,  no,  it  is  not  dying, 
To  wear  a  lordly  crown ; 
Among  God's  people  dwelling, 
The  glorious  triumph  swelling, 
Of  Him  whose  sway  we  own. 

Oh,  no,  this  is  not  d3dng, 
Thou  Saviour  of  mankind  ! 
There  streams  of  love  are  flowing. 
No  hindrance  ever  knowing  ; 
Here  drops  alone  we  find. 


IT  IS  NOT   DEATH  TO   DIE. 

(iV(3«,  ce  n^ est  pas  mourir^ 


Free,  from  the  French  of  Ur.  Malan  (see  the  preceding  hymn),  by  Dr.  George 
W.  Bethune  (Lays  of  Love  and  Faith,  Phila.  1847).  This  hymn  was  sung,  by  his 
own  direction,  at  Bethune's  funeral,  in  New  York,  Sept.,  1862. 


TT  is  not  death  to  die, 

To  leave  this  weary  road. 
And,  'midst  the  brotherhood  on  high. 
To  be  at  home  with  God. 


cfi 


O    SWEET    HOME-ECHO  !  66^ 

It  is  not  death  to  close 

The  eye  long  dimmed  by  tears, 
And  wake  in  glorious  repose, 

To  spend  eternal  years. 

It  is  not  death  to  bear 

The  wrench  that  sets  us  free 
From  dungeon-chain,  to  breathe  the  air 

Of  boundless  liberty. 

It  is  not  death  to  fling 

Aside  this  sinful  dust, 
And  rise,  on  strong,  exulting  wing. 

To  live  among  the  just. 

Jesus,  Thou  Prince  of  Life  ! 

Thy  chosen  cannot  die  ! 
Like  Thee,  they  conquer  in  the  strife, 

To  reign  with  Thee  on  high. 


O   SWEET   HOME-ECHO! 

("  Wi'r  werden  bet  dem  Herrn  se.in  allezeit") 


"  And  so  shall  we  ever  be  with  the  Lord."—  i  Thess.  iv.  17.  By  Mrs.  Dr.  Meta 
Heusser-Schweizer,  the  sweet  evangelical  singer  of  Switzerland;  b.  1797;  residing 
at  Hirzel,  Canton  Zurich.  Written,  1845,  for  a  friend  in  America  (Mrs.  P.  S.). 
Translated  by  Jane  Borthwick,  1853,  in  Hymns  from  the  Land  0/  Luther. 


o 


SWEET  home-echo  on  the  pilgrim's  way, 
Thrice  welcome  message  from  a  land  of  light ! 


664  FOR    EVER    WITH    CHRIST. 

As  through  a  clouded  sky  the  moonbeams  stray, 

So  on  eternity's  deep  shrouded  night 
Streams  a  mild  radiance,  from  that  cheering  word : 

"So  shall  we  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord." 

At  home  with  Jesus?  He  who  went  before, 
For  His  own  people  mansions  to  prepare  ; 

The  soul's  deep  longings  stilled,  its  conflicts  o'er, 
All  rest  and  blessedness  with  Jesus  there. 

What  home  like  this  can  the  wide  earth  afford? 
"So  shall  we  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord." 

With  Him  all  gathered  I  to  that  blessed  home. 
Through  all  its  windings,  still  the  pathway  tends  ; 

While  ever  and  anon  bright  glimpses  come 
Of  that  fair  city  where  the  journey  ends. 

Where  all  of  bliss  is  centred  in  one  word : 
"So  shall  we  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord." 

Here,  kindred  hearts  are  severed  far  and  wide, 
By  many  a  weary  mile  of  land  and  sea. 

Or  life's  all-varied  cares  and  paths  divide  ; 
But  yet  a  joyful  gathering  shall  be, 

The  broken  links  repaired,  the  lost  restored, 
"So  shall  we  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord." 

And  is  there  ever  perfect  union  here? 

Ah  !  daily  sins,  lamented  and  confessed. 
They  come  between  us  and  the  friends  most  dear, 

They  mar  our  blessedness  and  break  our  rest. 


THERE    IS    A   BLESSED    HOME. 

With  life  we  leave  the  evils  long  deplored 
"So  shall  we  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord." 

All  prone  to  error,  none  set  wholly  free 

From  the  old  serpent's  soul-ensnaring  chain, 

The  truths  one  child  of  God  can  clearly  see. 
He  seeks  to  make  his  brother  feel  in  vain ; 

But  all  shall  harmonize  in  heaven's  full  chord ; 
"So  shall  we  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord." 

O  blessed  promise  !  mercifully  given, 

Well  may  it  hush  the  wail  of  earthly  woe ; 

O'er  the  dark  passage  to  the  gates  of  heaven 
The  light  of  hope  and  resurrection  throw  ! 

Thanks  for  the  blessed,  life-inspiring  word  : 
"So  shall  we  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord." 


66s 

> 

THERE   IS   A   BLESSED   HOME. 


Rev.  Sir  Henry  Williams  Baker,  Bart.  1861.  Bom,  in  London,  1821 ;  son  of 
a  vice-admiral  in  the  Royal  Navy  ;  graduated  at  Cambridge,  1844  ;  vicar  of  Monkland  ; 
one  of  the  editors  of  Hymns  A  ncietii  and  Modern,  to  which  the  following  piece  was 
contributed  (No.  182). 


T^HERE  is  a  blessed  home 
Beyond  this  land  of  woe, 
Where  trials  never  come. 

Nor  tears  of  sorrow  flow  ; 
Where  faith  is  lost  in  sight, 

And  patient  hope  is  crowned, 


5                                                                                                 c    „ 

^ 

C- 

> 

t 

666                        FOR    EVER    WITH    CHRIST. 

And  everlasting  light 
Its  glory  throws  around. 

There  is  a  land  of  peace, 

Good  angels  know  it  well ; 
Glad  songs  that  never  cease 

Within  its  portals  swell ; 
Around  its  glorious  throne 

Ten  thousand  saints  adore 
Christ,  with  the  Father  One, 

And  Spirit,  evermore. 

O  joy  all  joys  beyond, 

To  see  the  Lamb  who  died. 
And  count  each  sacred  wound 

In  hands  and  feet  and  side  I 
To  give  to  Him  the  praise 

Of  every  triumph  won, 
And  sing  through  endless  days 

The  great  things  He  hath  done. 

Look  up,  ye  saints  of  God, 
Nor  fear  to  tread  below 

The  path  your  Saviour  trod 
Of  daily  toil  and  woe  ; 

Wait  but  a  little  while 
In  uncomplaining  love. 

His  own  most  gracious  smile 

» 

c 

Shall  welcome  you  above. 

> 

c 

) 

o                                                                                         0  ■■ 
J 

L 

STAR   OF   MORN  AND   EVEN. 


667 


STAR  OF  MORN  AND  EVEN. 

au'iov  uEpo(poiTav 
'Aarepa  /idvafiEv  'Ael'cov  levKonrspvya  irpoSpofiov. 


"The  Daystar."    By  Francis  Turner  Palgrave,  late  Scholar  of  Balliol,  and 
Fellow  of  Exeter  College,  Oxford.     1862.     From  his  //j,^ns,  2d  ed.  1868. 


OTAR  of  morn  and  even, 
Sun  of  Heaven's  heaven, 
Saviour  high  and  dear,  > 

Toward  us  turn  Thine  ear ; 
Through  whate'er  may  come. 
Thou  canst  lead  us  home. 

Though  the  gloom  be  grievous, 
Those  we  leant  on  leave  us, 
Though  the  coward  heart 
Quit  its  proper  part, 
Though  the  tempter  come. 
Thou  wilt  lead  us  home. 

Saviour  pure  and  holy, 

Lover  of  the  lowly. 

Sign  us  with  Thy  sign, 
Take  our  hands  in  Thine ; 
Take  our  hands  and  come. 
Lead  Thy  children  home  ! 


668 


FOR    EVER   WITH    CHRIST. 


Star  of  morn  and  even, 
Shine  on  us  from  Heaven  ; 
From  Thy  glory-throne 
Hear  Thy  very  own  ! 
Lord  and  Saviour,  come. 
Lead  us  to  our  home  ! 


O  HEAVEN!  SWEET  HEAVEN! 


Rev.  Edwin  H.  Nevin  ;  b.  1814,  at  Shippensburg,  Pa.;  pastor  of  St.  Paul's 
German  Reformed  Church,  Lancaster,  Pa.  (since  i86S).  The  following  hymn,  as  the 
author  kindly  informs  us,  was  written  and  first  printed  in  1862,  after  the  death  of  a 
beloved  son,  which  made  heaven  nearer  and  dearer  from  the  conviction  that  now  a 
member  of  his  family  was  one  of  its  inhabitants. 


o 


HEAVEN !   Sweet  Heaven !  the  home  of  the 
blest, 

Where  hearts  once  in  trouble  are  ever  at  rest ; 
Where  eyes  that  could  see  not  rejoice  in  the  light. 
And  beggars  made  princes  are  walking  in  white. 

O  Heaven  !    Sweet  Heaven  !  the  mansion  of  love. 
Where  Christ  in  His  beauty  shines  forth  from  above, 
The  Lamb  with  His  sceptre,  to  charm  and  control. 
And  love  is  the  sea  that  encircles  the  whole. 


O  Heaven  !    Sweet  Heaven  !  where  purity  reigns, 
Where  error  disturbs,  and  sin  never  stains ; 
Where  holiness  robes  in  its  garments  so  fair 
The  great  multitude  that  is  worshipping  there. 


OH    FOR    THE    ROBES    OF   WHITENESS  !  669 

O  Heaven  !    Sweet  Heaven  !  where  music  ne'er  dies, 
But  rich  pealing  anthems  of  glory  arise  ; 
Where  saints  with  one  feeling  of  rapture  are  stirred, 
And  loud  hallelujahs  for  ever  are  heard. 

O  Heaven!  Sweet  Heaven!  where  friends  never  part, 
But  cords  of  true  friendship  bind  firmly  the  heart ; 
Where  farewell  shall  nevermore  fall  on  the  ear, 
Nor  eyes  that  have  sorrowed  be- dimmed  with  a  tear. 


OH   FOR   THE   ROBES    OF  WHITENESS 


Charitie  Lees  Smith,  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Sidney  Smith,  D.D.,  rector  of  Agha- 
lurcher,  Ireland.  This  hymn,  entitled  "  Heavenly  Anticipations,"  is  a  favorite  in 
Sunday  schools  in  England.     From  Rogeks'.s  Lyra  Brit..,  1867,  p.  511. 


/^H  for  the  robes  of  whiteness ! 
^-"^    Oh  for  the  tearless  eyes  ! 
Oh  for  the  glorious  brightness 
Of  the  unclouded  skies  ! 

Oh  for  the  no  more  weeping 
Within  the  land  of  love. 

The  endless  joy  of  keeping 
The  bridal  feast  above  ! 

Oh  for  the  bliss  of  dying, 
My  risen  Lord  to  meet ! 

Oh  for  the  rest  of  lying 
For  ever  at  His  feet  I 


r 


fl 


670  FOR    EVER    WITH    CHRIST. 

Oh  for  the  hour  of  seeing 
My  Saviour  face  to  face, 

The  hope  of  ever  being 

In  that  sweet  meeting-place  ! 

Jesus,  Thou  King  of  glory, 
I  soon  shall  dwell  with  Thee ; 

I  soon  shall  sing  the  story 
Of  Thy  great  love  to  me. 

Meanwhile  my  thoughts  shall  enter. 
E'en  now,  before  Thy  throne, 

That  all  my  love  may  centre 
On  Thee,  and  Thee  alone. 


OH  FOR  THE  PEACE  WHICH  FLOWETH  ! 

"  What  is  this  that  He  saith,  A  little  while  ?  "  —  John  xvi.  18.  By  Mrs.  Jane 
Crewdson  (daughter  of  George  Fox);  b.  i8og;  d.,  1863,  near  Manchester,  alter  a  long 
period  of  illness,  during  which  she  wrote  her  poems,  breathing  the  rich  flavor  of  sancti- 
fied affliction. 

/^H  for  the  peace  which  floweth  as  a  river, 
^^    Making  life's  desert  places  bloom  and  smile  ! 
Oh  for  the  faith  to  grasp  heaven's  bright  "for  ever," 
Amid  the  shadows  of  earth's  "  little  while  "  ! 

"A  little  while,"  for  patient  vigil-keeping, 
To  face  the  stern,  to  wrestle  with  the  strong , 

"A  little  while,"  to  sow  the  seed  with  weeping, 
Then  bind  the  sheaves,  and  sing  the  harvest-song. 


OH  FOR  THE  PEACE  WHICH  FLOWETH  !  6^  I 

"A  little  while,"  to  wear  the  weeds  of  sadness, 
To  pace  with  weary  step  through  miry  ways ; 

Then  to  pour  forth  the  fragrant  oil  of  gladness, 
And  clasp  the  girdle  round  the  robe  of  praise. 

"A  little  while,"  'midst  shadow  and  illusion. 
To  strive,  by  faith,  love's  mysteries  to  spell ; 

Then  read  each  dark  enigma's  bright  solution 

Then  hail  sight's  verdict,  "He  doth  all  things  well." 

"A  little  while,"  the  earthen  pitcher  taking 

To  wayside  brooks,  from  far-off  fountains  fed ; 

Then  the  cool  lip  its  thirst  for  ever  slaking 
Beside  the  fulness  of  the  li'ountain  Head. 

"A  little  while,"  to  keep  the  oil  from  failing, 
"A  little  while,"  faith's  flickering  lamp  to  trim  ; 

And  then,  the  Bridegroom's  coming  footsteps  hailing. 
To  haste  to  meet  Him  with  the  bridal  hymn. 

And  He,  who  is  Himself  the  Gift  and  Giver, 
The  future  glory  and  the  present  smile. 

With  the  bright  promise  of  the  glad  "for  ever" 
Will  light  the  shadows  of  the  "  little  while  " 


672  FOR    EVER    WITH    CHRIST. 

WE   SHALL   SEE   HIM   IN   OUR  NATURE. 


Selected  from  a  longer  poem,  of  unknown  authorship.     186S.     "We  shall  see  Him 
as  He  is."  —  i  John  iii.  2. 


"IT  7E  shall  see  Him,"  in  our  nature, 

'  '     Seated  on  His  lofty  Throne, 

Loved,  adored,  by  every  creature. 

Owned  as  God,  and  God  alone  ! 

There  the  hosts  of  shining  spirits 
Strike  their  harps,  and  loudly  sing 

To  the  praise  of  Jesus'  merits. 
To  the  glory  of  their  King. 

When  we  pass  o'er  death's  dark  river, 
"We  shall  see  Him  as  He  is," 

Resting  in  His  love  and  favor, 
Owning  all  the  glory  His. 

There  to  cast  our  crowns  before  Him, 
Oh,  what  bliss  the  thought  affords  ! 

There  for  ever  to  adore  Him, 

King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords  ! 


n 


PRAISE  AND   ADORATION   OF  CHRIST. 


"  My  Lord  and  my  God."  —  John  xx.  28. 

"That  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow,  of  things  in  heaven  and 
things  in  earth  and  things  under  the  earth."  —  Phil.  ii.  10. 

"  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain,  to  receive  power,  and  riches,  and  wisdom,  and 
strength,  and  honor,  and  glory,  and  blessing."  —  Rev.  v.  12. 

/^  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST,  in  whom  the  whole  fulness  of  the 
^^-^  Godhead  and  Manhood,  without  sin,  dwelleth  in  one  Person 
for  ever,  who,  for  us  men  and  for  our  salvation,  didst  die  and  rise 
again,  and  now  sittest  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father  Almighty, 
as  our  Prophet,  Priest,  and  King,  able  and  willing  to  save  to  the 
uttermost  all  that  come  unto  God  by  Thee :  —  Thou  art  worthy  to 
receive  the  grateful  homage  of  all  ages  and  creeds  and  tongues; 
and  with  the  glorious  company  of  the  apostles,  tirith  the  goodly 
fellowship  of  the  prophets,  with .  the  noble  army  of  martyrs, 
with  the  holy  Church  throughout  all  the  world,  with  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem,  the  joyful  assembly  of  the  first-born  on  high,  with  the 
innumerable  host  of  angels  around  Thy  throne,  the  heaven  of 
heavens,  and  all  the  powers  therein,  we  worship  and  adore  Thy 
glorious  name,  saying,  with  a  loud  voice:  Blessing  and  honor 
and  glory  and  power  be  unto  Him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne, 
and  unto  the  Lamb,  for  ever  and  ever !     Amen. 

"  Lauda,  Sion,  Salvatorem, 
Lauda  Ducem  et  Pastorem 
In  hymnis  et  canticis ; 
Quantum  vales,  tantum  aude, 
Quia  major  omni  laude. 
Nee  laudare  sufficis." 


'To  Him  who  loved  the  souls  of  men, 

And  washed  us  in  His  blood. 
To  royal  honors  raised  our  head. 
And  made  us  priests  to  God,  — 


To  Him  let  every  tongue  be  praise, 
And  every  heart  be  love  ; 

All  grateful  honors  paid  on  earth. 
And  nobler  songs  above  ! 


Thou  art  the  First,  and  Thou  the  Last ; 

Time  centres  all  in  Thee,  — 
The  mighty  Lord,  who  was,  and  is. 

And  evermore  shall  be  I  " 

43 


a 


n 


cfi 


PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF 
CHRIST. 


SHEPHERD   OF   TENDER  YOUTH. 


A  free  transfusion,  by  an  unknown  author,  of  the  oldest  Christian  hymn  extant 
(next  to  the  Gloria  in  Excelsis),  composed  by  Clement  of  Alexacdria,  about  a.d.  200. 
A  sublime  but  somewhat  turgid  song  of  praise  to  the  Logos,  as  the  divine  Educator 
and  Leader  of  the  human  race.  The  Greek  in  the  works  of  Clement  (at  the  close  of 
his  Pcedagogue,  p.  311,  ed.  Potter),  and  in  Daniel,  IIL  p.  3.  German  versions  by 
Munter,  Dorner,  Hagenbach,  Fortlage ;  closer  English  versions  by  Mrs.  Charles, 
and  in  the  Ante-Nicene  Christian  Library,  Vol.  V.  p.  343.  A  very  learned  article  on 
the  contents  and  structure  of  this  hymn,  by  Prof  Piper,  in  his  Evangel.  Kalender, 
*or  1868,  pp.  17-39. 


OHEPHERD  of  tender  youth, 
*^    Guiding  in  love  and  truth 


Through  devious  ways ; 
Christ,  our  triumphant  King, 
We  come  Thy  name  to  sing, 
And  here  our  children  bring 

To  shout  Thy  praise  ! 

Thou  art  our  Holy  Lord, 
The  all-subduing  Word, 
Healer  of  strife ! 


^Jl 


6'j6  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 

Thou  didst  Thyself  abase, 
That  from  sin's  deep  disgrace 
Thou  mightest  save  our  race, 
And  give  us  life. 

Thou  art  the  great  High  Priest ; 
Thou  hast  prepared  the  feast 

Of  heavenly  love. 
While  in  our  mortal  pain, 
None  calls  on  Thee  in  vain  ; 
Help  Thou  dost  not  disdain, 

Help  from  above. 

Ever  be  Thou  our  Guide, 
Our  Shepherd,  and  our  Pride, 

Our  Staff  and  Song  ! 
Jesus,  Thou  Christ  of  God, 
By  Thy  perennial  word 
Lead  us  where  Thou  hast  trod, 

Make  our  faith  strong. 

So  now,  and  till  we  die, 
Sound  we  Thy  praises  high. 

And  joyful  sing ! 
Let  all  the  holy  throng 
Who  to  Thy  Church  belong, 
Unite  and  swell  the  song 

To  Christ  our  King  ! 


THEE  WE  ADORE,  ETERNAL  LORD  !     677 


THEE  WE  ADORE,  ETERNAL  LORD! 


Part  of   Te  Deum  Laudamus  (400),    adapted  to   Christ.     Anonymous   [1842] 
Slightly  altered.     Compare  Sir  R.  Palmer,  No.  V. 


''  I  ^HEE  we  adore,  eternal  Lord  ! 

-^    We  praise  Thy  Name  with  one  accord ; 
Thy  saints,  who  here  Thy  goodness  see, 
Through  all  the  world  do  worship  Thee. 

To  Thee  aloud  all  angels  cry, 

And  ceaseless  raise  their  songs  on  high ; 

Both  cherubim  and  seraphim, 

The  heavens  and  all  the  powers  therein. 

The  apostles  join  the  glorious  throng  ; 
The  prophets  swell  the  immortal  song ; 
The  martyrs'  noble  army  raise 
Eternal  anthems  to  Thy  praise. 

Thee,  holy  Prophet,  Priest,  and  King ! 
Thee,  Saviour  of  mankind,  they  sing : 
Thus  earth  below,  and  heaven  above. 
Resound  Thy  glory  and  Thy  love. 


Z) 


678  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 

I   GREET  THEE. 

(^e  Te  salue,  mon  certain  Redempteur.) 


"Salutation  to  Jesus  Christ."  By  John  Calvin,  the  great  Reformer;  b.  1509; 
d.,  at  Geneva,  1564.  This  hymn,  together  with  eleven  others  (mostly  translations  of 
Psalms),  written  in  French,  was  recently  discovered  by  Felix  Bovet,  of  Neuchatel, 
in  an  old  Genevese  prayer-book,  and  first  published  in  the  sixth  volume  of  the  new 
edition  of  the  works  of  Calvin  by-Baum,  Cunitz,  and  Reuss,  1868.  It  reveals  a  poetic 
vein,  and  a  devotional  fervor  and  tenderness,  which  one  would  hardly  have  suspected 
in  the  severe  logician.  (His  Epinicion  Christo  cantaium,  ad.  iS37,  is  not  devo- 
tional, but  a  controversial  poem  against  popery. )  German  translation  by  Dr.  St'ahelin, 
Jr.,  of  Basel  (author  of  the  best  biography  of  Calvin).  English  translation  by  Mrs. 
Prof.  H.  B.  Smith,  of  New  York,  1868.     Contributed. 


I 


GREET  Thee,  who  my  sure  Redeemer  art, 
My  only  Trust,  and  Saviour  of  my  heart ! 
Who  so  much  toil  and  woe 
And  pain  didst  undergo. 
For  my  poor,  worthless  sake ; 
And  pray  Thee,  from  our  hearts. 
All  idle  griefs  and  smarts, 
And  foolish  cares  to  take.^ 


1  We  give  the  first  stanza  in  the  original  old  French  :  — 

"  Je  Te  salue,  mon  certain  R^dempteur, 
Ma  vraye  fianc'  et  mon  seal  Salvateur, 

Qui  tant  de  labeur, 

D'ennuys  et  de  douleur 
As  endure  pour  moy : 

Oste  de  noz  cueurs 

Toutes  vaines  langueurs, 
Fol  soucy  et  es  moy." 


ft 


c — » 


I    GREET    THEE.  679 

Thou  art  the  King  of  mercy  and  of  grace, 
Reigning  omnipotent  in  every  place ; 
So  come,  O  King  !  and  deign 
Within  our  hearts  to  reign, 
And  our  whole  being  sway ; 
Shine  in  us  by  Thy  light, 
And  lead  us  to  the  height 
Of  Thy  pure,  heavenly  day. 

Thou  art  the  Life  by  which  alone  we  live, 
And  all  our  substance  and  our  strength  receive : 
Comfort  us  by  Thy  faith 
Against  the  pains  of  death  ; 
Sustain  us  by  Thy  power ; 
Let  not  our  fears  prevail. 
Nor  our  hearty  faint  or  fail. 
When  comes  the  trying  hour. 

Thou  art  the  true  and  perfect  gentleness. 
No  harshness  hast  Thou,  and  no  bitterness  : 
Make  us  to  taste  and  prove. 
Make  us  adore  and  love 
The  sweet  grace  found  in  Thee ; 
With  longing  to  abide 
Ever  at  Thy  dear  side. 
In  Thy  sweet  unity. 

Our  hope  is  in  no  other  save  in  Thee, 
Our  faith  is  built  upon  Thy  promise  free  ; 

Come,  and  our  hope  increase. 

Comfort  and  give  us  peace. 


68o  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 

Make  us  so  strong  and  sure, 
That  we  shall  conquerors  be, 
And  well  and  patiently 

Shall  every  ill  endure. 

Poor,  banished  exiles,  wretched  sons  of  Eve, 
Full  of  all  sorrows,  unto  Thee  we  grieve  ! 
To  Thee  we  bring  our  sighs. 
Our  groanings,  and  our  cries  : 
Thy  pity.  Lord,  we  crave ; 
We  take  the  sinner's  place. 
And  pray  Thee,  of  Thy  grace. 
To  pardon  and  to  save. 

Turn  Thy  sweet  eyes  upon  our  low  estate, 
Our  Mediator  and  our  Advocate, 
Propitiator  best ! 
Give  us  that  vision  blest, 
The  God  of  gods  most  High  ! 
And  let  us,  by  Thy  right. 
Enter  the  blessed  light 
And  glories  of  the  sky  I 

Oh,  pitiful  and  gracious  as  Thou  art, 
The  lovely  Bridegroom  of  the  holy  heart. 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  meet  Thou 
The  Antichrist  our  foe, 
In  all  his  cruel  ruth  ! 
Thy  Spirit  give,  that  we 
May,  in  true  verity. 
Follow  Thy  word  of  truth. 


U 


COME,    LET    US  JOIN.  68l 

COME,   LET  US  JOIN. 


Isaac  Watts,  1709.  "  Christ  Jesus,  the  Lamb  of  God,  worshipped  by  all  the 
creation."  Rev.  v.  11-13.  I  reluctantly  omit,  from  want  of  space,  his  "Join  all  the 
glorious  names  "  (twelve  stanzas). 


/'"^OME,  let  us  join  our  cheerful  songs 
^^    With  angels  round  the  throne  ; 
Ten  thousand  thousand  are  their  tongues, 
But  all  their  joys  are  one. 

'■  Worthy  the  Lamb  that  died,"  they  cry, 

"  To  be  exalted  thus  !  " 
"Worthy  the  Lamb  !  "  our  lips  reply, 

"For  He  was  slain  for  us." 

Jesus  is  worthy  to  receive 

Honor  and  power  divine  ; 
And  blessings  more  than  we  can  give, 

Be,  Lord,  for  ever  Thine  ! 

Let  all  that  dwell  above  the  sky. 

And  air  and  earth  and  seas. 
Conspire  to  lift  Thy  glories  high, 

And  speak  Thine  endless  praise. 

The  whole  creation  join  in  one, 

To  bless  the  sacred  name 
Of  Him  who  sits  upon  the  throne. 

And  to  adore  the  Lamb  I 


D 


682  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 

O   FOR  A  THOUSAND  TONGUES! 

Charles  Wesley.  1740.  Based  on  Isa.  xii.  2;  x3ocv.  s.  6;  xlv.  22;  John  i.  29; 
Matt.  xi.  s  ;  xxiv.  14.  Originally  eighteen  verses.  The  last  four  are  generally  omitted 
in  hymn-books,  also  in  Sir  R.  Palmer's  Book  of  Praise.  Rogers  gives  eight, 
Palmer  only  five,  verses. 

r~\  FOR  a  thousand  tongues  to  sing 
^-^  My  great  Redeemer's  praise  ! 
The  glories  of  my  God  and  King, 
The  triumphs  of  His  grace  ! 

My  gracious  Master  and  my  God, 

Assist  me  to  proclaim. 
To  spread  through  all  the  earth  abroad, 

The  honors  of  Thy  name. 

Jesus  !  the  name  that  charms^  our  fears, 

That  bids  our  sorrows  cease  ; 
'Tis  music  in  the  sinner's  ears ; 

'Tis  life  and  health  and  peace  ! 

He  breaks  the  power  of  cancelled  sin  \^ 

He  sets  the  prisoner  free  ; 
His  blood  can  make  the  foulest  clean ; 

His  blood  availed  for  me. 

He  speaks  ;  and,  listening  to  His  voice. 

New  life  the  dead  receive  ; 
The  mournful,  broken  hearts  rejoice  ; 

The  humble  poor  believe. 

1  Popular  collections  substitute  :  '■'■calms." 

2  Usually  changed  into  "  reigni7ig  sin." 


tJ 


O    FOR    A    THOUSAND    TONGUES  !  68^ 

Hear  Him,  ye  deaf!  His  praise,  ye  dumb, 

Your  loosened  tongues  employ  ! 
Ye  blind,  behold  your  Saviour  come ; 

And  leap,  ye  lame,  for  joy  ! 

Look  unto  Him,  ye  nations  !  own 

Your  God,  ye  fallen  race  ! 
Look,  and  be  saved  through  faith  alone, 

Be  justified  by  grace  ! 

See  all  your  sins  on  Jesus  laid  : 

The  Lamb  of  God  was  slain ; 
His  soul  was  once  an  offering  made 

For  every  soul  of  man. 

Awake  from  guilt}'"  nature's  sleep. 

And  Christ  shall  give  you  light ; 
Cast  all  your  sins  into  the  deep, 

And  wash  the  Ethiop  white. 

With  Me,  your  chief,  ye  then  shall  know, 

Shall  feel,  your  sins  forgiven  ; 
Anticipate  your  heaven  below, 

And  own  that  love  is  heaven. 


684  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 


AWAKE,   AND   SING  THE   SONG. 


William  Hammond,  a  Calvinistic-Methodist  preacher,  afterwards  a  Moravian  ; 
d.  1783,  at  Chelsea.  His  Psalms,  Hymns,  and  Spiritual  Songs  were  pubhshed  at 
London,  1745.  Abridged.  By  condensation,  this  fine  but  somewhat  repetitious  hymn 
is  made  more  effective.    Palmer  gives  Madaa's  variation  of  1760  (eight  verses). 


A  WAKE,  and  sing  the  song 
'^  ^    Of  Moses  and  the  Lamb  ; 
Tune  every  heart  and  every  tongue. 
To  praise  the  Saviour's  name. 

Sing  of  His  dying  love  ; 

Sing  of  His  rising  power  ; 
Sing  how  He  intercedes  above 

For  those  whose  sins  He  bore. 

Tell,  in  seraphic  strains, 

What  Christ  has  done  for  you  ; 

How  He  has  taken  off  your  chains, 
And  formed  your  hearts  anew. 

Are  j^ou  in  deep  distress? 

Then  sing  to  ease  the  smart. 
Are  you  rejoiced?  let  psalms  express 

The  gladness  of  your  heart. 

When  Paul  and  Silas  sung, 
The  earth  began  to  quake  ; 

The  prison  doors  were  open  flung. 
Her  firm  foundations  shake. 


D 


HAIL,    THOU    ONCE    DESPISED  JESUS  !  685 

Sing,  till  you  feel  j^^our  hearts 

Ascending  with  your  tongues  ; 
Sing,  till  the  love  of  sin  departs, 

And  grace  inspires  your  songs. 

Sing  on  your  heavenly  way  : 

Ye  ransomed  sinners,  sing  ! 
Sing  on,  rejoicing  every  day, 

In  Christ  the  eternal  King. 

Soon  shall  our  raptured  tongue 

In  heaven  His  praise  proclaim, 
And  sweeter  voices  tune  the  song 

Of  Moses  and  the  Lamb. 


HAIL,   THOU   ONCE   DESPISED  JESUS 


John  Bakewell,  b.  1721,  d.  1819 ;  a  Wesleyan  minister.  His  gravestone  re 
cords:  "  He  adorned  the  doctrine  of  God  our  Saviour  eighty  years,  and  preached  His 
glorious  gospel  about  seventy  years."  The  following  hymn  appeared  first  in  Madan's 
Collection,  in  1760:  then  in  Toplady's  Collection,  in  1776,  with  an  additional  stanzi, 
borrowed  fiom  James  Allen.  We  give  the  original  text,  from  Rogers,  p.  29.  Sir  R. 
Palmer  follows  Toplady's  Collection. 


T  TAIL,  Thou  once  despisM  Jesus  ! 
-^^    Hail,  Thou  Gahlean  King  ! 
Who  didst  suffer  to  release  us  ; 

Who  didst  free  salvation  bring  : 
Hail,  Thou  universal  Saviour,^ 

Who  hast  borne  our  sin  and  shame  ! 

1  Toplady's  Collection  and  R.  Palmer  substitute  "  agonizing 
Saviour,"  which  is  certainly  no  improvement. 


686  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 

By  whose  merits  we  find  favor ; 
Life  is  given  through  Thy  name. 

Paschal  Lamb,  by  God  appointed, 

All  our  sins  were  on  Thee  laid  ; 
By  almighty  love  appointed, 

Thou  hast  full  atonement  made  : 
Every  sin  may  be  forgiven 

Through  the  virtue  of  Thy  blood  ; 
Opened  is  the  gate  of  heaven  ; 

Peace  is  made  'twixt  man  and  God. 

Jesus,  hail !  enthroned  in  glory, 

There  for  ever  to  abide  ; 
All  the  heavenly  hosts  adore  Thee, 

Seated  at  Thy  Father's  side  : 
There  for  sinners  Thou  art  pleading  : 

"  Spare  them  yet  another  year ;  "  ^ 
Thou  for  saints  art  interceding, 

Till  in  glory  they  appear. 

Worship,  honor,  power,  and  blessing, 

Christ  is  worthy  to  receive  ; 
Loudest  praises,  without  ceasing, 

Meet  it  is  for  us  to  give. 
Help,  ye  bright  angelic  spirits  ! 

Bring  your  sweetest,  noblest  lays  ! 
Help  to  sing  our  Jesu's  merits  ; 

Help  to  chant  Immanuel's  praise. 

1  Toplady's  Collection  and  Palmer :  — 

"  There  Thou  doest  our  place  prepare." 


& 


NOW    LET    US  JOIN.  687 

NOW   LET   US  JOIN. 


John  Newton,  1779.     From  the  Olney  Hytnns.  No.  39.     Palmer  omits  verse  3. 


l^rOW  let  us  join  with  hearts  and  tongues, 

^  And  emulate  the  angels'  songs  ; 
Yea,  sinners  may  address  their  King 
In  songs  that  angels  cannot  sing. 

They  praise  the  Lamb  who  once  was  slain ; 
But  we  can  add  a  higher  strain  ; 
Not  only  sa}'" :  "  He  suffered  thus," 
But  that  "  He  suffered  all  for  us." 

When  angels  by  transgression  fell, 
Justice  consigned  them  all  to  hell ; 
But  mercy  formed  a  wondrous  plan, 
To  save  and  honor  fallen  man. 

Jesus,  who  passed  the  angels  by, 
Assumed  our  flesh  to  bleed  and  die ; 
And  still  He  makes  it  His  abode  : 
As  Man  He  fills  the  throne  of  God. 

Our  next  of  kin,  our  Brother  now. 
Is  He  to  whom  the  angels  bow ; 
They  join  with  us  to  praise  His  Name, 
And  we  the  nearest  interest  claim. 


D 


c-ft 


688  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 

But  ah  !  how  faint  our  praises  rise  ! 
Sure  'tis  the  wonder  of  the  skies, 
That  we,  who  share  His  richest  love, 
So  cold  and  unconcerned  should  prove. 

O  glorious  hour !  it  comes  with  speed. 
When  we,  from  sin  and  darkness  freed, 
Shall  see  the  God  who  died  for  man. 
And  praise  Him  more  than  angels  can. 


AWAKE,  MY   SOUL,   IN  JOYFUL  LAYS. 


Samuel  Medley,  a  Baptist  minister  at  Liverpool,  d.  1799;  author  of  232  hymns, 
which  appeared  in  1800. 

A  WAKE,  my  soul,  in  joyful  lays, 
■^"^   And  sing  thy  great  Redeemer's  praise  ; 
He  justly  claims  a  song  from  me  ; 
His  loving-kindness,  O  how  free  !  ^ 

He  saw  me  ruined  in  the  fall, 
Yet  loved  me  notwithstanding  all ; 
He  saved  me  from  my  lost  estate ; 
His  loving-kindness,  O  how  great ! 

When  I  was  Satan's  easy  prey, 
And  deep  in  debt  and  bondage  lay. 
He  paid  His  life  for  my  discharge  ; 
His  loving-kindness,  O  how  large  ! 

1  Originally :  "  is  so  free,"  and  so  throughout.   See  Rogers,  p.  400. 


AWAKE,    MY    SOUL,    IN  JOYFUL    LAYS.  689 

Through  mighty  hosts  of  cruel  foes, 
Where  earth  and  hell  my  way  oppose, 
He  safely  leads  my  soul  along ; 
His  loving-kindness,  O  how  strong  ! 

When  earthly  friends  forsake  me  quite, 
And  I  have  neither  skill  nor  might. 
He's  sure  my  helper  to  appear ; 
His  loving-kindness,  O  how  near  ! 

Often  I  feel  my  sinful  heart 
Prone  from  my  Jesus  to  depart  i 
But  though  I  have  Him  oft  forgot, 
His  loving-kindness  changes  not ! 

When  I  shall  pass  death's  gloomy  vale. 
And  life  and  mortal  powers  must  fail. 
Oh  !  may  my  last  expiring  breath 
His  loving-kindness  sing  in  death. 

Then  shall  I  mount  and  soar  away 
To  the  bright  world  of  endless  day ; 
And  sing  with  rapture  and  surprise 
His  loving-kindness  in  the  skies. 

There  with  their  golden  harps  I'll  join, 
And  with  their  anthems  mingle  mine. 
And  loudly  sound  on  every  chord 
The  loving-kindness  of  my  Lord. 
44 


D 


690  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 


HOSANNA  TO   THE  LIVING   LORD! 


Bishop  Reginald  Heber,  of  Calcutta.     1827.     For  Advent  Sunday.     The  text 
from  his  Poetical  Works,  Lond.  1854,  p.  42. 


TTOSANNA  to  the  living  Lord  ! 

Hosanna  to  the  Incarnate  Word  ! 
To  Christ,  Creator,  Saviour,  King, 
Let  earth,  let  heaven,  Hosanna  sing  ! 

Hosanna,  Lord  !  Hosanna  in  the  highest ! 

Hosanna,  Lord  !  Thine  angels  cry  ; 
Hosanna,  Lord  !  Thy  saints  reply  ; 
Above,  beneath  us,  and  around, 
The  dead  and  living  swell  the  sound  : 

Hosanna,  Lord  !  Hosanna  in  the  highest ! 

Oh,  Saviour  !  with  protecting  care, 
Return  to  this  Thy  house  of  prayer ; 
Assembled  in  Th}'-  sacred  Name, 
Where  we  Thy  parting  promise  claim  : 
Hosanna,  Lord  !  Hosanna  in  the  highest ! 

But,  chiefest,  in  our  cleansed  breast, 
Eternal !  bid  Thy  Spirit  rest ; 
And  make  our  secret  soul  to  be 
A  temple  pure,  and  worthy  Thee  : 

Hosanna,  Lord  !  Hosanna  in  the  highest ! 


THOU    WHOM    WE    SEEK.  69I 

So,  in  the  last  and  dreadful  day, 
When  earth  and  heaven  shall  melt  away, 
Thy  flock,  redeemed  from  sinful  stain. 
Shall  swell  the  sound  of  praise  again  : 

Hosanna,  Lord  !  Hosanna  in  the  highest ! 


THOU  WHOM  WE   SEEK. 

{Du,  den  mir  sucken  auf  so  finstern  Wegen.^ 


"To  the  Invisible"  ("  An  den  Unsichtbarfen  ").  A  sonnet,  by  Ludwig  Uhland, 
one  of  the  purest,  most  patriotic,  and  most  popular  poets  of  Germany ;  the  head  of  the 
"  Swabian  School;  "  b.  1787,  at  Tubingen,  where  he  lived  in  happy  independence  and 
modest  retirement  till  his  death,  in  1862.  Of  his  poems,  which  appeared  first  in  1815,  a 
new  edition  has  been  published,  since  1833,  almost  every  year.  This  sonnet,  as  also  his 
Shepherd's  Sunday  Hymn  and  his  Lost  Church,  reveal  a  genuine  and  deep  religious 
feeling ;  although  it  was  not  so  fully  developed  in  him  as  in  his  bosom  friends  and 
Swabian  fellow-poets,  Gustav  Schwab  and  Justinus  Kemer.  Faithfully  translated  by 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  L.  Smith,  New  York,  1868.  Contributed.  Another  translation, 
by  Samuel  J.  Pike,  commences:  — 

"  Thou  whom  we  seek  in  paths  where  shadows  reign." 


'T^HOU  whom  we  seek  in  darkness,  still  unseen, 
-^    And  cannot  with  our  searching  thoughts  em- 
brace. 
Once  Thou  didst  leave  the  cloud  which  hides 
Thy  face, 
Before  Thy  people  walking  forth  serene. 

What  sweet  delight  to  gaze  upon  Thy  mien, 
And  listen  to  Thy  words  of  truth  and  grace ! 
Oh,  blessed  they  who  at  Thy  board  found  place  ! 

Oh,  blessed  he  who  on  Thy  breast  did  lean  ! 


a 


692  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 

Therefore  not  strange  the  longmg,  when  the  host 

Of  countless  pilgrims  o'er  the  seas  did  press, 
And  armies  fought  upon  the  farthest  coast, 

Only  to  pray  at  Thy  sepulchral  bed, 

Only  in  pious  fervency  to  kiss 
The  holy  soil  on  which  Thy  feet  did  tread ! 


TO   HIM,   WHO  FOR  OUR   SINS. 


Arthur  Tozer  Russell.     1851.     From  R.  Palmer's  Book  of  Praise,  No.  LXVII. 


''  I  ^O  Him,  who  for  our  sins  was  slain, 
-^    To  Him,  for  all  His  dying  pain, 

Sing  we  Hallelujah ! 
To  Him,  the  Lamb  our  sacrifice. 
Who  gave  His  soul  our  ransom-price. 

Sing  we  Hallelujah  ! 

To  Him,  who  died  that  we  might  die 
To  sin,  and  live  with  Him  on  high, 

Sing  we  Hallelujah  ! 
To  Him,  who  rose  that  we  might  rise 
And  reign  with  Him  beyond  the  skies, 

Sing  we  Hallelujah  ! 

To  Him,  who  now  for  us  doth  plead 
And  helpeth  us  in  all  our  need. 

Sing  we  Hallelujah  ! 


c 


THOU  THAT  ART  THE  FATHER's  WORD.   693 

To  Him,  who  doth  prepare  on  high 
Our  home  in  immortaHty, 

Sing  we  Hallelujah  ! 

To  Him  be  glory  evermore ; 

Ye  heavenly  hosts,  your  Lord  adore  ; 

Sing  we  Hallelujah  ! 
To  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 
One  God  most  great,  our  joy  and  boast, 

Sing  we  Hallelujah ! 


THOU  THAT  ART  THE  FATHER'S  WORD. 

Henry  Alford,  D.D.,  Dean  of  Canterbury ;  b.,  at  London,  Oct.  7,  iSio.     Writ- 
ten 1832.     From  his  Year  of  Praise,  Lond.  1867,  No.  32. 


HTHOU  that  art  the  Father's  Word, 
-^    Thou  that  art  the  Lamb  of  God, 
Thou  that  art  the  Virgin's  Son, 
Thou  that  savest  souls  undone,   • 
Sacred  sacrifice  for  sin, 
Fount  of  piety  within  : 
Hail,  Lord  Jesus  ! 

Thou  to  whom  Thine  angels  raise 

Quiring  songs  of  sweetest  praise. 

Thou  that  art  the  flower  and  fruit. 

Virgin  born  from  Jesse's  root. 

Shedding  holy  peace  abroad. 

Perfect  man  and  perfect  God  : 

Hail,  Lord  Jesus  ! 


fi 


694  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 

Thou  that  art  the  door  of  heaven, 
Living  bread  in  mercy  given, 
Brightness  of  the  Father's  face, 
Everlasting  Prince  of  Peace, 
Precious  pearl  beyond  all  price, 
Brightest  star  in  all  the  skies  : 
Hail,  Lord  Jesus  I 

King  and  Spouse  of  holy  hearts, 
Fount  of  love  that  ne'er  departs, 
Sweetest  life,  and  brightest  day, 
Truest  truth,  and  surest  way. 
That  leads  onward  to  the  blest 
Sabbath  of  eternal  rest : 
Hail,  Lord  Jesus ! 


PRAISE  TO    JESUS 


Wit-LIAM  Ball  ;  bred  to  the  bar ;  residing  near  Rydal,  Westmoreland ;  a  member 
of  the  Society  of  Friends;  author  of  Hymns  and  Lyrics,  published,  1864,  for  private 
circulatiDn.     From  Rogers's  Lyra  Brit.,  p.  645. 


"pRAISE  to  Jesus  !     Praise  to  God 
-^     For  the  love  He  sheds  abroad, 
Lightening  o'er  a  world  of  sin. 
Glowing  in  the  heart  within. 

For  the  pristine  promise  made 
E'en  in  Eden's  darkened  shade, 
For  the  light  of  sacrifice, 
Till  the  Morning  Star  should  rise. 


u 


"  p 

) 

PRAISE    TO  JESUS  !                                  695 

3 

For  the  harp  of  prophecy, 

Singing  of  redemption  nigh ; 

For  the  Branch  of  Jesse's  stem  ; 

Fey-  the  birth  at  Bethlehem. 

For  the  sacred  standard  spread  ; 

For  the  life  our  Pattern  led  ; 

For  His  precept  pure  and  true ; 

For  His  doctrine,  like  the  dew. 

For  His  love's  inviting  call. 

All  embracing,  seeking  all ; 

For  the  grace  and  truth  He  brought, 

For  the  ransom  He'  hath  wrought. 

For  the  crown  of  thorns  He  wore ; 

For  thp  nainfnl  rrnss  FTp  br»rp  : 

For  the  dying  word  He  said. 

Sealed  with  blood  of  sprinkling  shed. 

For  the  radiant  rising  dawn. 
For  the  sting  of  death  withdrawn  ; 
For  the  victory  gained  so  well 
O'er  the  grave,  and  over  hell. 

For  His  glorious  reign  on  high. 
When  He  rose  from  Bethany  ; 
For  the  heavenly  peace  He  leaves ; 
For  the  Comforter  He  gives. 


696  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 

For  His  parting  promise  dear 
Of  His  presence,  alway  near; 
For  the  blest  assurance  made 
Of  His  intercessory  aid. 

For  the  pledge  that  we  shall  rise, 
In  His  likeness,  to  the  skies ; 
For  the  merciful  decree 
That  our  Friend  our  Judge  shall  be. 

All  redeeming  bounty  gives  ; 
All  that  humble  faith  receives  ; 
All  that  rising  doubt  restrains  ; 
All  that  drooping  hope  sustains,  — 

Saviour  !  these  to  Thee  we  owe, 
From  Thy  dying  love  they  flow ; 
And  we  praise,  for  grace  so  free, 
Thee,  Jehovah-Jesus,  Thee  ! 


THOU   KING   ANOINTED. 

(^Rex  Christe,  Factor  omnium.^ 


A  hymn  to  Christ  the  King,  by  the  Rev.  James  Inglis,  New  York,  1868.  Con- 
tributed. Suggested  by  a  Latin  hymn  of  Gregory  the  Great  (590-604):  "In  pas- 
sione  Domini"  (al.  "In  coena  Domini"),  Daniel,  I.  p.  180. 


''  I  ^HOU  King  anointed,  at  whose  word 

A  world  from  nothing  answ'ring  came, 
The  world,  redeemed,  shall  own  Thee  Lord, 
And  yield  its  honors  to  Thy  name. 


D 


THOU    KING    ANOINTED.  697 

To  Thee,  low-bending  down  Thine  ear, 
The  suppliant  never  pleads  in  vain, — 

Our  lowly  homage  swift  to  hear, 

Though  angels  swell  the  rival  strain. 

Eternal  life  flows  from  Thy  wound ; 

Grace,  in  Thy  very  weakness  strong, 
Dissolves  the  tyrant's  chains,  which  bound 

Our  souls,  to  ruin  dragged  along. 
Each  star  is  but  another  gem 

To  garnish  the  Creator's  crown  ; 
Yet  Thou,  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem, 

The  humblest  wilt  a  brother  own  ! 

Thy  hand  the  secret  influence  wove 

That  links  in  one  things  great  and  small ; 
Thy  hands  were  fettered  to  remove 

The  tangled  net  of  Satan's  thrall. 
Nailed  to  the  cross,  Thy  piteous  cry 

Scarce  pierced  the  shout  of  hellish  rage  ; 
Thy  whisper  shakes  the  earth  and  sky ; 

Thy  glance  sheds  darkness  on  the  age. 

Almighty  Victor  !  from  the  height 

Of  Thy  paternal  glory  bend  ; 
From  dangers  of  the  thick'ning  night. 

Thy  people,  best  of  kings,  defend. 
The  darkness  of  the  night  dispel ; 

Reveal  the  splendors  of  Thy  throne  ; 
O'erthrow  the  reign  of  Death  and  Hell, 

And  take  the  kingdoms  for  Thine  own. 


D 


698  PRAISE    AND    ADORATION    OF    CHRIST. 

GLORY  BE  TO  GOD  THE  FATHER! 


HoRATius  BoNAR,  D.D.     Hymns  of  Faith  and  Hope,  Third  Series,  iS 


r^  LORY  be  to  God  the  Father  ! 
^-^    Glory  be  to  God  the  Son  ! 
Glory  be  to  God  the  Spirit ! 

Great  Jehovah,  Three  in  One  ! 
Glory,  glory, 

While  eternal  ages  run  ! 

Glory  be  to  Him  who  loved  us, 

Washed  us  from  each  spot  and  stain  ! 

Glory  be  to  Him  who  bought  us. 
Made  us  kings  with  Him  to  reign  ! 

Glory,  glory 
To  the  Lamb  that  once  was  slain  ! 

Glory  to  the  King  of  angels  ! 

Glory  to  the  Church's  King  ! 
Glory  to  the  King  of  nations  ! 

Heaven  and  earth  your  praises  bring, 
Glory,  glory 
To  the  King  of  glory  bring  ! 

Glory,  blessing,  praise  eternal ! 

Thus  the  choir  of  angels  sings ; 
Honor,  riches,  power,  dominion  ! 

Thus  its  praise  creation  brings  ; 
Glory,  glory. 

Glory  to  the  King  of  kings  ! 


5 


CHRIST  THE   THEME   OF   SONG   IN  ALL 
AGES. 


By  Anson  D.  F.  Randolph.     Written  for  this  Collection,  as  a  finale,  New  York, 
September,  1868. 


OH,  endless  theme  of  never-ceasing  song 
And  music,  wakened  by  supremest  love ! 
How  hath  it  broke  from  feeble  lips  and  strong, 

The  power  divine,  and  matchless  grace  to  prove  : 
Christ  Son  of  God,  and  Christ  the  Son  of  Man  ; 

Christ  on  the  Cross,  and  Christ  in  kingly  Reign, 
So  through  the  ages,  since  the  song  began. 

With  swelling  hosts,  the  saints  repeat  the  strain. 

On  hills  and  plains  the  Israelite  only  knew, 

On  classic  soil,  on  drifting  desert  sand, 
Where'er  the  Roman  eagles  swiftly  flew, 

Or  roamed  abroad  the  fierce  ungoverned  band ; 
'Mong  Jew  and  Gentile,  as  in  wandering  horde, 

Barbarian,  Scythian,  all,  the  bond  or  free,  — 
There  were  who  watched  and  waited  for  the  Lord, 

And  some  who  did  His  mighty  wonders  see. 

How  from  the  warm  and  ever-ruddy  East, 
Far  to  the  rugged  North  and  golden  West, 

The  knowledge  of  this  wondrous  Christ  increased, 
With  life  and  hope  the  dying  nations  blessed : 


700  CHRIST    THE    THEME    OF    SONG. 

Thence  saints,  exultant,  onward  bore  His  sign 
From  land  to  land,  and  compassed  every  shore  ; 

One  Lord,  one  faith,  one  aim,  one  end  divine. 
Their  theme  and  song,  their  life  for  evermore  ! 

Since  holy  women  bowed  their  heads  and  wept. 

Where  from  the  grave  the  angel  rolled  the  stone,  — 
That  grave  where  He,  the  Son  of  God,  had  slept 

As  Son  of  Man,  in  darkness  and  alone,  — 
What  countless  names  the  world's  applause  have  won  ! 

What  notes  of  praise  have  men  to  these  inscribed  ! 
How  soon  were  they  forgotten,  one  by  one, 

And  earth's  poor  honors  to  the  dead  denied ! 

Not  mightiest  kings  the  earth  has  ever  seen. 

Nor  time,  nor  powers  men  honored  or  abhorred, 
Could  crush  the  memory  of  the  Nazarene, 

Or  shut  the  saints  from  presence  of  their  Lord : 
In  kingly  courts,  in  prisons  foul  and  damp, 

In  scenes  tumultuous,  as  in  homes  of  peace. 
There,  with  His  own,  God's  Angel  would  encamp. 

There  rise  the  songs  that  nevermore  shall  cease  ! 

Thus  through  the  years  of  ages  long  ago, 

Thus  in  the  changes  of  these  latter  days : 
One  only  Lord,  our  Lord,  above,  below. 

And  He  the  object  of  our  endless  praise  ; 
This  the  same  key-note  of  unnumbered  lyres. 

This,  too,  th'  unending  song  of  sweet  accord. 
O  world  !  ye  have  no  theme  that  thus  inspires : 

Ye  still  reject  and  crucify  the  Lord. 


CHRIST    THE    THEME    OF    SONG.  70I 

In  furnace-fires,  on  mountains  drear  and  cold  ; 

In  peasant  hut,  as  in  the  palace-hall, 
The  story  of  His  life  for  ever  told, 

And  His  dear  love  the  burning  theme  of  all : 
From  lips  too  weak  aught  human  to  express. 

From  noble  hearts  that  held  the  world  at  bay. 
What  songs  have  risen,  and  what  strains  confess 

The  blessed  One  whom  I  would  praise  to-day  I 

Christ  Son  of  God,  and  Christ  the  Son  of  Man  ; 

Christ  on  the  Cross,  and  Christ  in  kingly  Reign  ! 
So  sang  the  saints  when  first  the  song  began, 

So  shall^  it  rise  a  never-ending  strain. 
Come,  Thou,  and  touch  my  lips,  that  I  'may  sing ; 

Come,  fill  my  heart  with  love  to  overflow : 
My  Lord,  my  Life,  I  would  some  tribute  bring. 

And  tell  the  world  how  much  to  Thee  I  owe ! 


n 

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ID 

i. 

» 

GENERAL   ALPHABETICAL   LIST   OF 

HYMNS. 

Page 

Page 

Abide  with  me  I  fast  falls  the  eventide 

527 

Behold,  where,  in  a  mortal  form     . 

146 

A  Child  is  born  in  Bethlehem    .     . 

50 

Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Cross   . 

436 

A  great  and  mighty  wonder  .     .     . 

39 

Bethlehem,  of  noblest  cities  .     .     • 

113 

A  hymn  of  glory  let  us  sing  .     .     . 

305 

Blest  morning,  whose  young .     . 

269 

A  sinful  man  am  I 

477 

Body  of  Jesus,  O  sweet  food     .     . 

595 

A  star  shines  forth  in  heaven      .     . 

III 

Bound  upon  tire  accursed  tree   .     . 

207 

Again  the  Lord  of  life  and  light 

281 

Bride  of  the  Lamb,  awake  1  awake  1 

399 

Ah  !  Jesus,  let  me  hear  Thy  voice 

564 

Brief  life  is  here  our  portion  .     .     . 

643 

All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name  . 

326 

Brightest  and  best  of  the  sons   .     . 

122 

All  hail,  thou  night 

48 

By  Christ  redeemed,  in  Christ  restored   598 

All  my  heart  this  night  rejoices  .     . 

S8 

All  praise  to  Thee,  eternal  Lord     . 

S3 

Carol,  brothers,  carol      .... 

84 

All  ye  Gentile  lands,  awal<e  .     .     . 

118 

Cease,  ye  tearful  mourners    .     .     . 

63s 

Alone  with  Thee,  alone  with  Thee  1 

524 

Chief  of  sinners  though  I  be      .     . 

570 

Amid  life's  wild  commotion  .     .     . 

533 

Christ,  the  Life  of  all  the  living .     . 

183 

Amid  the  darkness,  when  the  storm 

486 

Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  again    .     . 

259 

Angels,  from  the  realms  of  glory    . 

76 

Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day  .     • 

273 

Angels,  roll  the  rock  away     .     .     . 

292 

Christ,  Thou  the  champion   .     .     . 

341 

Are  there  no  wounds  for  me  .     .     . 

223 

Christ,  whose  first  appearance  lightec 

123 

Art  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid   . 

452 

Cling  to  the  Crucified  . 

211 

Ask  ye  what  great  thing  I  know     . 

2og 

Come  hither,  ye  faithful    .... 

49 

Asleep  in  Jesus  1  blessed  sleep  .     . 

6S3 

Come,  let  us  join  our  cheerful  songs 

68 1 

As  with  gladness  men  of  old  ,     .     . 

126 

Come,  Lord,  and  tarry  not     .     .     . 

395 

At  the  cross  her  station  keeping     . 

169 

Come,  my  Way,  my  Truth,  my  Life 

135 

Awake,  and  sing  the  song      .     .     . 

684 

Come  to  Calvary's  holy  mountain  . 

202 

Awake,  glad  soul,  awake  !  awake  1 

294 

Come,  weary  souls,  with  sin  distressec 

495 

Awake,  my  soul,  in  joyful  lays  .     . 

688 

Come,  ye  faithful,  raise  the  strain  . 

243 

Awake,  sweet  harp  of  Judah,  wake 

464 

Come,  ye  lofty  1  come,  ye  lowly  1    . 
Come,  ye  saints,  look  here  and  wonder 

86 
279 

Behold,  the  Bridegroom  cometh  . 

II 

Compared  with  Christ,  in  all  beside 

618 

Behold,  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made 

249 

Conquering  Prince  and  Lord  of  glory 

321 

Behold  the  glories  of  the  Lamb     . 

346 

Courage,  my  sorely  tempted  heart . 

455 

€ 

1 

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M 

704   GENERAL  ALPHABETICAL  LIST  OF  HYMNS. 


Page 
Day  of  judgment  1  Day  of  wonders  .  388 
Day  of  wrath  !  O  Day  of  mourn  ng  .  376 
Day  of  wrath  1  that  Day  foretold  .  .  372 
Dear   Saviour  1    we    are  Thine.     See 

My  Saviour  !  /  attt. 
Dearest  of  all  the  names  above  .     .    .    420 
Deck  thyself,  my  soul,  with  gladness  .     590 
Draw  nigh,  draw  nigh,  Emmanuel     .      14 

Earth  has  nothing  sweet  or  fair   .     .  136 

Ere  yet  the  dawn  has  filled  the  skies  .  263 

Ever  would  I  fain  be  reading     .     .    .  141 

Exalt,  exalt,  the  heavenly  gates     .    .  306 

Fairest  Lord  Jesus 413 

451 
203 

645 

161 

466 

45 

40 


Fierce  was  the  wild  billow  .... 
Fling  out  the  Banner  1  let  it  float  .  . 
For  thee,  O  dear,  dear  Country  .  . 
Forth  flames  the  standard  of  our  king 
From  every  stormy  wind  that  blows  . 
From  lands  that  see  the  sun  arise  .  . 
From  where  the  rising  sun  goes  forth 


Glorious  Head,  Thou  livest  now .    .  272 

Glory  be  to  God  the  Father  ....  698 

God  comes  ;  ^and  who  shall  stand     .  365 

Good  news  from  heaven 54 

Hail,  Day  of  days  I  in  peals  of  praise  235 

Hail,  mfant  martyrs 107 

Hail,  kingly  Jesus,  to  Thy  feet .     .     .  130 

Hail  the  day  that  sees  Him  rise     .     .  323 

Hail,  thou  Head  I 162 

Hail,  Thou  once  despised  Jesus    .     .  685 

Hallelujah  1  Hallelujah 248 

Halleluiah  I  I  believe 537 

Hark  1  how  all  the  welkin  rings     .     .  66 

Hark,  my  soul !  it  is  the  Lord  .     .     .  425 

Hark  I  the  glad  sound 68 

Hark  !  the  voice  of  love  and  mercy    .  198 

Hark  !  what  mean  those  holy  voices  .  75 

Heart  of  Christ  my  King  I     ....  410 

Heavenward  doth  our  journey  tend    .  319 

He  comes,  no  royal  vesture  wearing   .  33 

He  who  on  earth  as  man  was  known  .  352 


He  is  gone ;  beyond  the  skies    .     . 
Him  on  yonder  cross  I  love  .     .     . 
Holy  Jesus,  Fount  of  light  .     .     . 
Hope  of  our  hearts,  O  Lord  1  appear 
Hosanna  1  raise  the  pealing  hymn 
Hosanna  to  the  living  Lord  .    .     . 
Hosanna  to  the  Prince  of  light .     . 
How  beauteous  were  the  marks  divine 
How  lovely  shines  the  Morning  Star 
How  sweet  the  name  of  Jesus  sounds 
How  wondrous  are  the  works  of  God 

I  BORE  with  thee  long  weary  days 
I  give  my  heart  to  Thee   .    . 

I  greet  Thee 

I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  sav 

I  know  in  whom  I  put  my  trust 

I  lay  my  sins  on  Jesus .     .     . 

I  leave  Thee  not :  Thou  art  my  Jesus 

I  need  Thee,  precious  Jesus  . 

I  once  was  a  stranger  .     .     . 

I  place  an  offering  at  Thy  shrine 

I  say  to  all  men,  far  and  neai 

I've  found  a  joy  in  sorrow 

I  was  a  wandering  sheep  .     . 

If  only  I  have  Thee      .     .     . 

If  the  dark  and  awful  tomb   . 

In  Bethlehem,  the  Lord  of  giory 

In  memory  of  the  Saviour's  love 

In  the  bonds  of  Death  He  lay 

In  the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory 

In  the  hours  of  pain  and  sorrow 

In  the  silent  midnight  watches 

In  Thy  glorious  Resurrection 

In  Thy  service  will  I  ever     . 

It  came  upon  the  midnight  clear 

It  is  not  death  to  die    .     . 

Jerusalem  the  golden 
Jesu,  lover  of  my  soul  .     . 
Jesu,  my  Lord,  my  God,  my  All 
Jesu,  name  all  names  above  .     . 
Jesu,  the  very  'bought  of  Thee 
Jesu,  to  Thy  table  led       .     . 
Jesus  Christ  is  risen  to-day   .     . 


Page 
336 


133 

398 
356 
6go 
317 
'47 
551 
426 
422 

443 
604 
678 
476 
53-1 
212 
555 
4S7 
540 
612 
277 
515 
429 
502 
241 
93 
595 
261 
199 
484 
438 
296 
566 


647 
459 
627 

4°3 
40s 
597 
253 


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GENERAL   ALPHABETICAL    LIST    OF   HYMNS. 

705 

Page 

Pack 

Jesus  I  gentle  Sufferer,  say 

217 

Lo  1  God  to  heaven  ascendeth  . 

•    31S 

Jesus'  holy  Cross  and  dying  .     . 

.     i6s 

Lo  1  He  comes  1     Let  all  adore  Him  .      27 

Jesus,  how  much  Thy  name  unfoU 

s  •    431 

Lo !  He  comes  with  clouds  descending  385 

Jesus,  how  sweet  Thy  memory  is 

•     409 

Lo,  the  Day  I  —  the  Day  of  Life 

•    380 

Jesus,  I  live  to  Thee    .... 

•     577 

Lo,  the  feast  is  spread  to-day     . 

.    600 

Jesus,  I  love  Thee,  — not  because 

.    606 

Lo,  the  storms  of  life  are  breaking 

.    478 

Jesus,  I  love  Thee  evermore 

.    608 

Long  did  I  toil 

•    507 

Jesus,  I  love  Thy  charming  name 

.    6.7 

Lord,  how  shall  I  be  meeting    . 

20 

Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken     . 

•     143 

Lord,  it  belongs  not  to  my  care . 

.    651 

Jesus,  immutably  the  same    .     . 

•     S59 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  in  Thee  alone 

•     454 

Jesus  is  God  1  the  solid  earth     . 

.    3S8 

Lord,  let  my  heart  still  turn  to  Thee  .     573 

Jesus,  lead  us  with  Thy  power  . 

.    561 

Lord,  Thou  art  mine,  and  I  am  Thine    554 

Jesus  lives,  and  so  shall  I      .     . 

•     27s 

Love  divine,  all  loves  excelling  . 

.     421 

Jesus,  Lord  of  life  eternal     .     . 

•    307 

"  Lovest  thou  Me  ? "    .... 

626 

Jesus,  my  Lord  !  my  life,  my  all 

.     501 

Jesus,  my  Lord,  Thy  nearness  . 

•    496 

Mary  !  put  thy  grief  away    •     . 

.     256 

Jesus,  my  Lord,  'tis  sweet  to  rest 

•    519 

Messiah,  at  Thy  glad  approach . 

•        25 

Jesus,  my  Redeemer,  lives    .     . 

.     26s 

More  than  all,  one  thing  my  heart 

.  62s 

Jesus'  name  shall  ever  be      •    . 

•     437 

Morning  breaks  upon  the  tomb . 

.    280 

Jesus,  pro  me  perforatus  .     .     . 

.     462 

My  dear  Redeemer  and  my  Lord 

.  138 

Jesus  shall  reign  where'er  the  sun 

•     345 

My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee     .     . 

•  536 

Jesus,  still  lead  on 

•     139 

My  home  in  heaven     .... 

•  633 

Jesus,  the  rays  divine  .... 

.     526 

My  Jesus,  if  the  seraphim     .    . 

•  342 

Jesus,  these  eyes  have  never  seen 

.     628 

My  Saviour  I  I  am  Thine      ■    . 

•    S58 

Jesus,  Thou  Joy  of  loving  hearts 

603 

My  Saviour,  'mid  life's  varied  scene        482 

Jesus,  Thy  Blood  and  Righteousn 

:ss      igi 

My  sins,  my  sins,  my  Saviour    . 

215 

Jesus,  Thy  boundless  love  to  me 

611 

No  more,  ah,  no  more .... 

.    638 

Jesus,  Thy  Church,  with  longing  e 

yes    391 

No,  no,  it  is  not  dying  .... 

.    .    661 

Joy  and  gladness  1  joy  and  gladnes 

s          88 

Not  all  the  blood  of  beasts    .     . 

.     188 

Joy  to  the  world,  the  Lord  is  come 

65 

Now  I  have  found  a  friend    .     . 

.     sii 

J  ust  as  I  am,  —  without  one  plea 

•     473 

Now  I  have  found  the  ground  wherein    457 

Just  as  thou  art,  —  without  one  tra 

ce  .     474 

Now  let  our  cheerful  eyes  survey 
Now  let  us  join 

•    349 

.    687 

King  of  kings,  and  wilt  Thou  deij 

;n       360 

Now  thy  gentle  Lamb,  O  Sion  . 

.    .     251 

Lamb,  the  once  crucified  .     .    . 

•    330 

0  ABIDE,  abide  in  Jesus   .     .     . 

.     .    623 

Late,  late,  so  late  1 

•     394 

0  blessed  Lord 

•     .    57S 

]^et  me  be  with  Thee  where  Thou 

art     654 

0  blessed  Sun,  whose  splendor . 

.     .    508 

Let  not  your  heart  be  faint    .     . 

•     S'7 

0  Bread  of  Life  from  heaven      . 

•    .    589 

Let  the  earth  now  praise  the  Lord 

18 

0  Christ,  our  true  and  only  light 

.     it6 

Let  Zion's  sons  and  daughters  say 

•     •     254 

0  Christ,  the  Lord  of  heaven,  to  Thee    361 

Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  mighty  gate 

s    .       17 

0  Christ,  who  hast  prepared  a  place  .     3" 

Life's  mystery  —  deep,  restless  . 

•     544 

0  for  a  closer  walk  with  God 

.     .    498 

Listen  to  the  wondrous  story 

•     •     444 

0  for  a  thousand  tongues  to  sing 

.    .    682 

Lo  I  God,  our  God,  has  come 

•       92 

0  Friend  of  souls!  how  blest  the  time    491 

c 

i 

fS 

It 

c: 

_ 

J 

^ 

" 

«> 

0 

u 

w 

7o6       GENERAL.   ALPHABETICAL    LIST    OF    HYMNS. 


a 


Page 

O  God,  unseen,  yet  ever  near    .    .    •  596 

O  happy  house sbS 

O  Head  so  full  of  bruises 221 

O  Heaven  I  Sweet  Heaven  I      ...  668 

O  holy  Saviour,  Friend  unseen  .     .     .  539 

O  Jesu,  who  art  gone  before .     .     .    .  312 

O  Jesu  1  King  most  wonderful  .     .     .  407 

O  Jesu  I  Thou  the  beauty  art    .     .     .  408 

O  Jesus  I  sweet  the  tears  I  shed    .     .  219 

O  Jesus  1  when  I  think  of  Thee     .     .  293 

O  Lamb  of  God,  who,  bleeding      .     .  583 

O  Lord !  I  love  Thee  from  my  heart  .  609 

O  Love  divine,  how  sweet  Thou  art   .  615 

O  Love,  who  formedst  me  to  wear      .  414 

O  Paradise !  O  Paradise !      .     .     .     .  659 

O  risen  Lord  !  O  conquering  King  !    .  267 

O  sacred  Head  1  now  wounded  ■     .     .  178 

O  sacred  Head,  surrounded  ....  182 

O  sweet  home-echo ! 663 

O  Thou  Redeemer  of  our  race  ...  9 

O  Thou  !  who  by  a  star  didst  guide    .  125 

O  wondrous  mother  I 108 

O  world  !  behold  upon  the  tree  .     .     .  174 

O'erwhelmed  in  depths  of  woe  .     .     .  167 

Of  the  Father's  love  begotten     ...  43 

Oh,  endless  theme 699 

Oh  for  a  heart  to  praise  my  (iod     .     .  140 

Oh  for  the  peace  which  floweth      .     .  670 

Oh  for  the  robes  of  whiteness     .     .     .  669 

Oh  how  could  I  forget  Him  ....  622 

Oh,  how  wondrous  is  the  story  ...  69 
Oh  !  long  and  darksome  was  the  night 
Oh,  Paradise  must  fairer  be  ...     . 
On  earth  awhile,  'mid  sufferings  tri 
On  Jordan's  bank,  the  Baptist's  cry 
On  Thee,  O  Jesus  !  strongly  leaning 

Once  He  came  in  blessing 15 

One  there  is,  above  all  others     .     .     .  428 

One  thing's  needful :  then.  Lord  Jesus  416 

Oppressed  with  noon-day's  scorching .  210 

Our  Lord  is  risen  from  the  dead     .     .  325 

Our  lot  is  fallen  in  pleasant  places  .     .  434 


ed 


657 

308 

12 

571 


Ph;nged  in  a  gulf  of  dark  despair  , 
Praise  to  Jesus  !     Praise  to  God    . 


24 
634 


Pack 

Rejoice  I  the  Lord  is  King  ....  348 

Rejoice,  all  ye  believers 383 

Resting  from  His  work  to-day   .     .     .  230 

Rest  of  the  weary,  Joy  of  the  sad  .     .  518 

Rest  of  tl>e  weary  1     Thou     ....  228 

Rest,  weary  Son  of  God 231 

Rest,  weary  soul  1 514 

Ride  on,  ride  on  in  majesty  ....  206 

Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me 461 


Saviour  !  when,  in  dust,  to  Thee 
See  a  poor  sinner,  dearest  Lord 
See,  the  Conqueror  mounts  in  triumph 
See  the  ransomed  millions  stand  . 
Shepherd  of  tender  youth  .  .  . 
Since  Christ  is  gone  to  heaven  .  . 
Since  o'er  Thy  footstool  here  below 

Sing  aloud,  children 

Sing,  and  the  mystery  declare    .     . 
Sing,  my  tongue,  the  mystery  telling 
Sing,  my  tongue,  the  Saviour's  battle 
Sing,  O  Heavens  I  O  Earth,  rejoice! 

Sleep,  Holy  Babe 

Soft  cloud,  that,  while  the  breeze 
Sons  of  men,  behold  from  far 
Souls  of  men,  why  will  ye  scatter 
Star  of  mom  and  even      .     .     . 
Still  on  Thy  loving  heart  let  me  repose 

Still,  still  with  Thee 

Still  thy  sorrow,  Magdalena  .     .     . 

Strong  Son  of  God 

Suffering  Saviour,  Lamb  of  God 
Sun  of  my  soul,  Thou  Saviour  dear 
Sun,  shine  forth  in  all  thy  splendor 
Surely  Christ  thy  griefs  has  borne  . 
Sweet  the  moments,  rich  in  bles'^ing 
Sweet  was  the  hour,  O  Lord !  to  Thee 


467 
532 
334 
357 
67s 
314 
656 
299 
5S7 
5^4 
155 
337 
:o2 
3-^8 
121 
440 
667 
432 
575 
257 
547 
592 
562 
-'83 
'94 
193 
522 


That  Day  of  wrath! 379 

That  great  Day  of  wrath  and  terror    .  368 

That  Holy  One 629 

That  mystic  word  of  Thine  ....  574 

The  atoning  work  is  done 354 

The  char! otl  the  chariot!      ....  393 


GENERAL  ALPHABETICAL  LIST  OF  HYMNS.   707 


Page 

The  Church  has  waited  long      ...  35 

The  Church  of  God  lifts  up  her  voice  240 

The  Day  is  near 366 

The  foe  behind,  the  deep  before     .     .  286 

The  God  wiiom  earth  and  sea  and  sky  99 

The  happy  Christmas  comes      ...  82 

The  Head  that  once  was  crowned  .     .  353 

The  Life  above,  the  Life  on  high   .     .  649 

The  Lord  of  all  things 613 

The  Lord  of  life  is  risen 288 

The  Lord  will  come 390 

The  morning  purples  all  the  sky     .     .  246 

The  Royal  Banners  forward  go  .     .     .  159 

The  Saviour !  O,  what  endless  charms  424 

The  sepulchre  is  holding 227 

The  Supper  of  the  Lamb  to  share  .     .  237 

The  Throne  of  His  Glory !    .     .     .    .  393 

The  tomb  is  empty 290 

The  way  is  long  and  dreary  ....  483 

The  wise  men  to  Thy  cradle-throne    .  128 

The  wondering  sages  trace  from  far    .  120 

The  world  can  neither  give  nor  take   .  494 

Thee  we  adore,  eternal  Lord     .    .    .  677 

There  comes  a  galley  laden   ....  52 

There  is  a  blessed  home 665 

There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood   .  ig6 

There  is  an  everlasting  home     .     .     .  479 

There  is  no  love  like  the  love  of  Jesus  439 

Tliere  was  no  angel  'midst  the  throng  446 

They  gave  to  Thee  myrrh     ....  117 

Thine  Handmaid,  Saviour!  can  it  be  148 

This  holy  mom,  so  fair  and  bright  .     .  245 

This  is  the  month 62 

Thou  art  the  Way  ;  to  Thee  alone      .  145 

Thou  fairest  Child  Divine     ....  63 

Thou  hidden  Source  of  calm  repose    .  493 

Thou  Holiest  Love,  whom  most  I  love  1^5 

Thou  King  anointed,  at  whose  word  .  696 

Thou  Lord  of  all,  on  earth  hast  dwelt  149 

Thou  shalt  rise  !  my  dust 652 

Thou  stand'st  between  the  earth    .     .  103 

Thou  that  art  the  Father's  word     .     .  693 

Thou  who  didst  hang  upon  a  barren  tree  218 

Thou  whom  we  seek  in  darkness    .     .  691 

Through  the  love  of  God  our  Saviour  .  513 


Page 

•  309 
47 

■     313 
.     692 

•  673 


To-day  above  the  sky  He  soared  . 
To-day  in  Bethlehem  hear  I  .  . 
To-day  our  Lord  went  up  on  high  . 
To  Him,  who  for  our  sins  was  slain 
To  Him  who  loved  the  souls     .     . 

Tossed  with  rough  winds 480 

Trembling  before  Thine  awful  throne  504 
Trustingly,  trustingly,  Jesus,  to  Thee  151 
'Tis  come,  the  time  so  oft  foretold .  .  81 
'Tis  the  Day  of  Resurrection  .  .  .  242 
'Twas  on  that  dark,  that  doleful  night    594 


Wake,  awake,  for  night  is  flying   . 
Watchman  I  tell  us  of  the  night 
We  come  not  with  a  costly  store     . 

We  keep  the  festival 

We  shall  see  Him  in  our  nature     . 
We  sing  the  praise  of  Him  who  died 
We  sing  to  Thee,  Immanuel      .     . 


We  speak  of  the  realms  of  the  blessed    655 


We  were  not  with  the  faithful  few  . 
Welcome,  Thou  Victor  in  the  strife 
What  laws,  my  blessed  Saviour  .     . 
What  star  is  this,  with  beams  so  bright 
What  sudden  blaze  of  song    .     . 
When  across  the  heart .... 


543 
270 
171 
114 
78 

521 

When  gathering  clouds  around  I  view    469 

187 
56s 
30 
73 
470 
531 
619 
46s 
S46 
523 
100 


When  I  survey  the  wondrous  cross 
When  in  the  hour  of  lonely  woe  . 
When  Jesus  came  to  earth  of  old  . 
When  Jordan  hushed  his  waters  still 
When  our  heads  are  bowed  with  woe 
When  sins  and  fears  prevailing  rise 
When  this  passing  world  is  done  . 
When  through  the  torn  sail  .  .  . 
When  time  seems  short  .... 
When  winds  are  raging  .... 
When,  within  His  mother's  arms  . 
When,  wounded  sore,  the  stricken  soul 
Wherefore  weep  we  over  Jesus  .  . 
Where  high  the  heavenly  temple  . 
While  Faith  is  with  me,  I  am  blest 
While  to  Bethlehem  we  are  go  ng  . 
Why  should  I  fear  the  d.arkest  hour 
Why  should  these  eyes  be  tearful   . 


382 
28 
129 
238 
672 
200 
S6 


204 
35° 
S42 
61 

409 
300 


708        GENERAL.   ALPHABETICAL   LIST    OF   HYMNS. 


Page 
With  tearful  eyes  I  look  around  .  .  472 
With  terror  thou  dost  strike  me  now  .  640 
Wonder  of  wonders  I  on  the  cross .  .  220 
Would'st  thou  learn  the  depth  of  sin  .    214 


Yks  :  I  will  always  love    . 
Yes  1  our  Shepherd  leads . 


Pack 

.    614 

•    S05 


ZiON,  at  thy  shiuing  gates 


SI 


-fl 


LATIN     HYMNS. 


Pagb 

A  soLis  ortQs  cardine  ad  usque      .    .  45 

A  solis  ort'is  cardine  et  usque    ...  40 

Ad  coenam  Agni  providi 237 

Ad  regias  Agni  dapes 238 

Adeste  fideles . 49 

Alleluia,  Alleluia  I 248 

Apparebit  repentina 368 

Arte  mira,  miro  consilio 429 

Aurora  coelum  purpurat    ....  245,  246 

CcELos  ascendit  hodie 309 

Corde  natus  ex  Parentis   ....  43 

Cor  meum  Tibi  dedo 604 

Dies  ilia,  dies  vitae 380 

Dies  irae,  dies  ilia 372 

FcENO  jacere  pertulit 92 

Grates  nunc  oranes  reddamus ...  53 

Gravi  me  terrore  pulsas 640 

Hic  breve  vivitur 643 

Hora  novissima 642 

Hymnum  canamus  glorije      ....  305 

In  terris  adhuc  positam 308 

Jam  moesta  quiesce  querela  .    .     .635,  638 

Jesu,  decus  angelicum 408 

Jesu  dulcis  memoria 405 

Jesu,  plena  caritate 212 

Jesu,  Rex  admirabilis        .               .  407 

Jesus,  dulcedo  cordium     ....  401,  603 

Jesus,  pro  me  perforatus 462 


Jordanis  eras  prajvia    .     . 
Judex  mundi  quum  sedebit 

Lauda,  Sion,  Salvatorem 


MiTis  Agnu>,  Leo  fortis 
Nobis  Olympo  redditus 


O  BONA  patria     .    .    . 

O  Christe,  qui  noster  poli 

O  Deus,  ego  amo  Te,  Nam  prior 

O  Deus,  ego  amo  Te,  Nee  amo 

O  Domine  Deus 

O  esca  viatorum 

O  filii  et  filias 

O  Jesu,  mi  dulcissime  .... 
O  nox  vel  medio  splendidior  die 
O  sola  magnarum  urbium      .    . 

Pange,  lingua,  gloriosi  corporis  580, 
Pange,  lingua,  gloriosi  proelium 
Parvum  quando  cemo  Deum 
Pone  luctura,  Magdalena .     . 
Puer  natus  in  Bethlehem  .     . 


QvjB  Stella  sole  pulchrior 
Quem  terra,  pontus,  sidera 
Qui  penetravit  inferas  .     . 


Recordare  sanctas  crucis     . 
Rex  Christe,  Factor  omnium 


Page 
12 

•  363 

•  673 
.  251 

•  3" 

.  645 

•  312 
.  608 

602,  606 

•  449 

•  589 

•  254 
.  109 
.  48 

•  "3 

584,  5S7 

•  15s 
.  100 

256,  257 

•  SO 


114 

99 

303 

i6s 
696 


S>Evo  dolorum  turbine 167 

Salve,  Caput  cruentatum  .  .162 


.^ 


710 


GREEK   HYMNS. 


GERMAN    HYMNS. 


Page 

Salve,  Dies  dienim  gloria 249 

Salve,  festa  dies 235 

Salvete,  flores  martyrum 107 

Stabat  Mater  Dolorosa 169 

Stabat  Mater  Speciosa 97 

Stupenda  lex  mysterii 233 

Summi  regis  cor,  aveto 410 

Surrexit  Christus  hodie 253 


Page 

Tandem  fluctus,  tandem  luctus     .    .  7 

Tecum  volo  vulnerari 211 

Te  Deum  laudaraus 677 

Urbs  Syon  aurea 647 

Veni,  Redemptor  gentium    ....  9 

Veni,  veni,  Emmanuel 14 

Vexilla  Regis  prodeunt 159 


GREEK     HYMNS. 


Page 

' kvacTaaeuQ  ijfjepa 242 

'Aoufxev  nuvreg  Xaoi 243 

Aii^a  kv  inpiaToig  Qeij) 47 

Ell  Koi  kv  Tu(p(f) 241 

''ETTufjaTE  nvXuc 306 

'E(peaT7]Kev  i]  rjfiepa 366 

Zo^epuQ  TpiKVfj.ias 451 


Page 

'Iijaov  yTiVKVTaTE 4°3 

'lijaovg  6  ZuoSottjc  ......  307 

Konov  TE  Koi  Kutiarov      ....  452 

Miya  koi  napudo^ov  ^miua  ...  39 

MOVVT]  flOi  nUTpTj  ■KEplAe'lTTETO    ■      •  633 

'0  Kvpwc;  epXETai 365 

'Ztoluov  iruTiUv  udaCov 675 


GERMAN     HYMNS. 


Page 
AcH  mein  Herr  Jesu,  Deir,  Nahesein  496 
Allein  auf  Christi  Himmelfahrt . 
Allein  zu  Dir,  Herr  Jesu  Christ 
Auf  diesen  Tag  bedenken  wir  . 
Auferstehn,  ja  auferstehn  .  .  . 
Aus  irdischem  GetUmmel      .     . 


Bei  Dir,  Jesu,  will  ich  bleiben  .  .  .  566 
Bleibt  bei  Dem,  der  euretwillen  .  .  623 
Brich  durch,  mein  angefocht'nes  Herz    455 


Christ  lag  in  Todesbanden 
Christe,  Du  Beistand  Deiner 


314 
454 
313 
652 

533 


261 
341 


Christi  Blut  und  Gerechtigkeit  . 
Christus  ist  erstanden  .... 


Das  Paradies  muss  schtiner  sein 
Dein  Konig  kommt  in  niedern  Hi 
Der  am  Kreuz  ist  meine  Liebe  . 
Der  Du  in  der  Nacht  des  Todes 
Der  Herr  ist  auferstanden  .  . 
Du,  den  wir  suchen  .... 
Du  schbnstes  Gottes-Kind    .    . 

EiN  lieblich  Loos  ist  uns  gefallen 
Eines  wunsch  ich  mir  .... 


lien 


Page 

191 
259 


657 
33 
1S9 
1=3 
2S8 
6gi 
63 

434 
62s 


m 

-«) 

f 

-^ 

d 

3 

c 

> 

GERMAN 

HYMNS. 

711 

Page 

Pagb 

Eins  ist  noth :  ach  Herr,  diess  Eine 

416 

Macht  hcch  die  ThUr'    .... 

17 

Er  ist  in  Bethlehem  geboren      .     . 

93 

Meiu  Jesu,  dera  die  Seraphinen    . 

•    342 

Ermuntert  euch,  ihr  Frommen  .     . 

383 

Es  kommt  ein  Schiff  geladen     .     . 

52 

0  auferstand'ner  Siegesfurst    . 
0  Du  Liebe  melner  Liebe     .     .     . 

.    267 
.    18s 

Frohlich  soil  main  Herze  springen 

S8 

0  Haupt  vol!  Blut  und  Wunden    .  178,  182 

Friih  morgens,  da  die  Sonn'  aufgeht 

263 

0  Jesu  Christ,  mein  schiinstes  Licht 

.    611 

GoTT  fahret  auf  gen  Himmel    .     . 
Gott  sei  Dank  durch  alle  Welt  .     . 
Gottes  Soha  ist  komnien  .... 

31S 
.      18 

.      IS 

0  Jesu  Christe,  wahres  Licht    .     . 

0  Jesu,  meine  Sonne 

0  Lamm  Gottes  unschuldig  .     .     . 
0  selig  Haus,  wo  man  Dich  .     .     • 

.     it6 
.    S08 
.    583 
.    568 

Heiligster  Jesu,  Heil'gungsqueUe 

133 

0  Welt,  sieh  hier  dein  Leben    •     . 

•     174 

Herzlich  lieb  hab  ich  Dich,  o  Herr 

609 

Herzliebster  Jesu,  was  hast  Du 

171 

ScHMucKE  dich,  0  liebe  Seele   .    . 

•     590 

Himmelan  geht  unsre  Bahn  .     •     . 

319 

Schonster  Herr  Jesu 

Siegesfiirst  und  Ehrenkonig  .     .     . 

•     4'3 
.     321 

Ich  glaube,  Hallelujah     .... 

S37 

So  ruhest  Du,  O  meine  Ruh'     .     . 

.     228 

Ich  habe  nun  den  Grund  gefunden 

457 

Still  an  Deinem  liebevoUen  Herzen 

•     432 

Ich  lass  Dich  nicht 

S5S 

^ 

Ich  sag  es  jedem,  dass  Er  lebt  .     . 

277 

VoM  Himmel  hoch  da  komm  ich  her 

•      54 

Ich  weiss,  an  wen  ich  glaube      .     . 

534 

Im  Abend  blinkt  der  Morgenstern 

120 

Wachet  auf!  ruft  uns  die  Stimme 

.    382 

Immer  muss  ich  wieder  lesen     .     . 

141 

Wandle  leuchtender  und  schdner   . 
Weint  nicht  iiber  Jesu  Schmerzen 

.     283 
.     204 

Ja  fiirwahr  1  uns  fiihrt      .... 

505 

Wenn  ich  Ihn  nur  habe         ... 

•    502 

Jesu,  geh  voran  ...          ... 

139 

Werde  Licht,  du  Volk  der  Heiden 

.     118 

Jesu,  meines  Lebens  Leben  .     .     . 

183 

Wie  kbnnt  ich  Sein  vergessen 

.    622 

Jesus  lebt,  mit  Ihm  auch  ich     .     . 

27s 

Wie  schon  leuchtet  der  Morgenstern 

•     551 

Jesus,  meine  Zuversicht   .... 

263 

Wie  soil  ich  Dich  empfangen     .     . 

20 

Wie  wohl  ist  mir,  0  Freund  der  Seelen    491 

Keine  Schijnheit  hat  die  Welt .     .     . 

136 

Willkomm,  verklarter  Gottessohn  . 
Willkommen,  Held  im  Streite   .     . 

.     272 
.     270 

Lamm,  das  gelitten,  und  Lowe  .     .     . 

330 

Wir  singen  Dir,  Immanuel    .     .     . 

•      56 

Liebe,  die  Du  mich  zum  Bilde  .     . 

414 

Wir  werden  bei  dam  Herm  sein 

663 

Hymns  from  the  Syriac,  p.  iii ; 

from  tl 

e  Spanish,  pp.  65,  649 ;  from  the  French, 

pp.  612,  613,  614,  661,  662,  678;  from 

the  Dui 

rcH,  p.  133;  frojn  the  Danish,  p.Sz. 

Cambridge :  P 

ress  of  . 

ohn  Wilson  and  Son. 

c 

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